The Price of Love
by drama-princess
Summary: The first in my "Love" series. Satine recovers from consumption and marries Christian, but they soon find that the
1. All I Ask of You

The Price of Love  
  
_We're creatures of the underworld. We can't afford to love.   
~Harold Zidler_  


  
Chapter I: All I Ask of You  
  
Satine coughed again, the force of it wracking her body and choking her blood up onto the cloth Christian held near her mouth. Beads of sweat glistened on her grey face, and her eyes fluttered open and shut, as if her awareness was the only thing holding her onto this life. Outside the window, the broken visage of an empty Moulin Rouge seemed to reflect Satine's wavering strength. The Duke had emptied the nightclub as one last, futile gesture against the woman he had longed to possess, leaving Zidler and the dancers destitute on the streets. Zidler, clever as he was, had managed to secure a small sum to provide for himself and the others until the future revealed what it held for them. . .but every prospect looked small and weak.   
  
Christian was desperate to find a cure, even something that would allow Satine to live in relative comfort until the end of her days, had been forced to sell the sparkling diamond's jewels. One by one they passed into the hands of pawnbrokers, who held the chains and pearls up against the brilliant light, squinted, and pronounced judgment on how much money Christian could hand on to the doctors. But Satine's possessions were not so great in number that this could continue long, and Christian owned little more than his clothes and the small, dank flat he lived in.   
  
There is little I can do for her, the last doctor had told him. She needs sunlight, good food, clean air, expensive medicines. . .then perhaps she would have a chance. His own exorbitant bill had plunged Christian into despair. While Satine slept restlessly, he sat by her side, his face buried in his hands. What could he do? The feeling of helplessness consumed him. He had nothing, and his friends had little more.   
  
So the courtesan is dying, a thin, evil voice said from inside Christian's mind. And it appears the sitar player has indeed left her with nothing.   
  
Get out of my head, Christian snarled to himself, his hand curling into a fist. But the familiar voices continued to speak.   
  
The difference between you and me is that you can leave anytime you choose. . .   
  
Once the sitar player has satisfied his lust. . .  
  
Don't, Christian. . .there's no point.   
  
That's real love.   
  
Just leave. . .  
  
Stop it! Christian cried, slamming his hand against the nightstand. The sheaf of papers that rested there fell to the ground in a swirl of white. With a puzzled frown, he bent down and retrieved them. It was the play he had written several years ago--_Look to the Sky.   
  
_Look to the sky. . . Christian whispered. His father had mocked the play as too romantic, and it was considerably poorer than his more recent works, but--his father?   
  
Christian said. I wonder. . .Toulouse? he called softly, hoping not awake Satine. Toulouse's head promptly popped into the doorway.   
  
he replied quietly and hopefully.   
  
Do you think. . .do you think Satine's well enough to travel? Toulouse shook his head, his brow creased.   
  
No. . .why?   
  
One last hope, Christian said slowly. I suppose a letter will have to do.   
  
A letter? asked a puzzled Toulouse. Christian. . .what do you have in mind? Christian held a finger to his lips and walked over to his typewriter. Zidler had brought it back to him after the first and final performance of the show with a wry smile.   
  
That's quite a story you've created, he'd said. You might want to tell it one of these days.   
  
Christian had not touched it in weeks, but now he pulled the cover off and inserted a sheet of paper. One last hope to save Satine's life. . .  
  
Several hours later, he sat at the desk with the final draft of his letter. He took a brief swallow of water and looked back at Satine. She was sleeping peacefully now, after the vicious attack of an hour ago.   
  
_Dear Father,  
I am aware that we did not part of the best of terms; indeed, it would be completely understandable for you to forget your son entirely. However, events have forced me to write and beg for your immediate assistance. . .not for myself, but for my wife. I am recently married to a woman who was once of advantageous circumstances, but unfortunately, tragedy has reduced us to our present state of poverty. Normally, we would not disturb you with our troubles, but my wife has become severely ill with consumption and we cannot afford to pay for her treatment. The doctors inform us that her death is sure without removal to healthier surroundings than our Parisian home. Father, I beg that you will respond quickly--the days grow short for my wife and I, and she is not well enough to travel to London, but I feel she would survive the journey to a country house in the French countryside.   
I remain,   
Christian_  
  
Christian wiped his face and looked the letter over one more time. Some lies had been necessary-- his father would have certainly refused to help had he not referred to Satine as his wife, and the advantageous circumstances' would reassure his father that this was not a can-can dancer from the Moulin Rouge. . .how many times had those words echoed in Christian's head! With a brief smile, he sealed the letter and handed it over to Toulouse to post it.   
  
Christian glanced at Satine, still sleeping, and felt the cold touch of fear. His father was not the sort of man to hand over the money with his best wishes-- he would almost certainly accompany any assistance with a demand. Christian was not afraid of leaving Montmartre-- he would miss his friends greatly, but Satine came first in his heart. But would his father demand to meet this new wife of Christian? Almost certainly. . .and, well, the time for that would come. He looked out the window, the broken shadow of the Moulin Rouge, and he began to sing softly.   
_  
When this all began  
I should have known there'd be a price to pay  
Too late now to turn away  
I have come too far!  
I know I'll find the way. . .  
But what's the price I'll have to pay?  
  
_ Shaking his head slowly, he drew back from the window and caught sight of Satine stirring.   
  
Christian. . . she breathed softly. Good morning. . . Christian sat down next to her and took both of her slender hands in his own.   
  
Good morning, my love, he replied, kissing her palm.   
  
Christian. . . she said softly. I understand. . .what you mean . . .  
  
  
  
_When this all began  
I knew there'd be a price. . .  
  
_ Christian whispered. Shh. . .don't give up hope yet, darling. . .we have another hope.   
  
Do we? Satine smiled.   
  
Christian said firmly. We do.   
  
A week and a half later, Christian found himself holding a letter from his father. The slender, flat envelope gave no clue to what kind of poison lay between the lines of his father's epistle. He turned it over in his hands, studying it.  
  
What is it? Satine's voice came faintly from the bed, where she sat in her robe, a handkerchief waiting patiently in her hand for its inevitable use. Christian hesitated, but then rose and sat by her. She had a right to know.  
  
It's from my father, he answered, handing her the envelope. Satine raised an eyebrow.   
  
I thought he didn't particularly care where you were after you came here, she said curiously, watching him out of the corner of her eyes.   
  
He didn't, Christian conceded, taking back the letter. I wrote him, asking him for money. . .  
  
Satine began gently.   
  
I told him we were married, he finished quickly, studying the blanket beneath him. Satine drew in a sharp breath, and immediately choked on it. After the coughing subsided, she drew back from Christian's embrace to look into his face.   
  
Is that what you want? she asked softly, refusing to let hope take hold of her heart.  
  
Only if--only if you think you'd want it, too, he said awkwardly, still refusing to meet her gaze. But--Father wouldn't have listened if I hadn't told him--but--I do want to marry you, Satine, if you'd be happy with a penniless poet, he laughed a little on the last words.  
  
Oh, Christian, Satine whispered. At her voice, his head raised to look into her eyes.   
  
Would you. . . ? he said softly, brushing tendril of hair away from her face. Satine brushed away a few tears and began to sing, her voice as sweet and lovely as the first time Christian had ever heard it.   
  
_How do I get through one night without you  
If I had to live without you  
What kind of life would that be?  
Oh I, I need you in my arms  
Need you to hold,  
You're my world, my heart, my soul.  
If you ever leave  
Baby, you would take away everything good in my life. . .  
  
_ As he always did, Christian understood the feelings in her heart and put them into words. As she paused for breath, he began to sing for her.   
  
_And tell me now  
How do I live without you?  
I want to know  
How do I breathe without you  
If you ever go  
How do I ever, ever survive  
How do I, how do I  
Oh, how do I live  
Without you . . .  
  
_As the last notes of his song filled the room, their lips met, and they were both lost in the sweetness of it. The letter slipped from Christian's hand to the floor. As they slowly parted from the kiss, Satine buried her face against his shoulder, and he held her tightly within his embrace. He did nothing more than hold her, afraid of letting go, afraid of losing her. As Satine fell asleep, Christian whispered a final verse to the song.   
  
_Without you, there would be no sun in my sky  
There would be no love in my life  
There would be no world left for me . . .   
  
_He tucked the blanket around Satine's sleeping form, and bent down to retrieve the letter. It was better than what he had expected. Inside lay some bank papers and a short, cursory note telling Christian to keep in touch to discuss his move back to England once his wife had fully recovered. Christian sighed and ran his hands across his face. He looked out the window to the Moulin Rouge, and thought of all the dreams, the passions, the anger, the fear. . .so many memories lived in this place. . .it might have been the underworld, but it was not hell. . .nor was it heaven. Christian shook his head. His home was with Satine--his heart was with Satine, and wherever she went, he would follow.   
  
Satine studied her reflection in the mirror on her wedding day-- her wedding day! The words seemed alien and wrong for her to speak. She was the Sparkling Diamond, the renowned courtesan. She sold her love for the right price. _No. . . _Satine thought to herself. _ I sold it for the wrong price. I took cash, diamonds, pearls, roses, favors, but never love. Not that it was ever offered to me. . .until I met Christian, and then he gave it freely. He never really expected anything in return. He just loved me. Had I said no that night on the elephant, he would have turned and left me alone. But I learned from you, Christian. The greatest thing I could ever learn. . ._  
  
Satine smiled at herself. The dress she wore was a simple white silk. Christian had insisted on the color, as if Satine was the modest, blushing girl that his wife would have been. It was strangely unreal to Satine, seeing the pure white gown on herself. Her face was pale, but for once, she did not bother with any heavy makeup. She put on some pink lipstick and light rouge, but nothing like the colors she wore in her days as a courtesan. Nor was her figure as perfect, for she had lost weight, and her corset was not laced so tightly as it could have been. But still Christian loved her. Satine took a deep breath and placed the shimmering veil over her cascading red curls. The effect was complete. All traces of the Sparkling Diamond had been erased. In her place stood the woman that had laid buried within Satine for all the years of her life.   
  
_I have a gift for you   
Something that I've held onto   
Waiting for your sweet caress   
The ribbon has been on tight   
For all that I hold inside   
And only you will possess   
This heart of innocence.  
  
_The Bohemians looked distinctly out of place in the quiet chapel in a simple part of Paris. Zidler had come, but was lurking in the back, as if afraid that he would be contaminated by the world outside Montmartre. Christian stood nervously at the altar, his fingers playing with his coat. _  
  
_Don't worry, dear boy, Toulouse reassured him. It's just marriage! The epitome of our ideal of love! The Argentinean snorted, only to meet Satie's elbow in his side. Just then, Satine appeared at the aisle. Christian's mouth dropped open. She looked so beautiful. . ._his _beautiful Satine, the woman who had showed him the most perfect love he could have ever dreamed of.   
  
I understand you've written your own vows, the priest said, eying Toulouse nervously, as if the dwarf would turn on him any moment. You may begin them after the service. The priest's monotone passed by in a blur for both Satine and Christian, who listened only enough to repeat the words required of them. Then the priests's incessant droning stopped and Christian began to sing the song he'd written for this day.   
  
_No more talk of darkness  
Forget these wide-eyed fears  
I'm here, nothing can harm you  
My words will warm and calm you  
Let me be your freedom  
Let daylight dry your tears  
I'm here, with you, beside you  
To guard you and to guide you.  
  
_ Satine blinked back the tears in her eyes. This wasn't a dream. . .she would never awake and find herself in the Duke's arms. She was here, and she was being married to Christian.  
  
_Say you'll love me every waking moment  
Turn my head with talk of summertime  
Say you need me with you now and always  
Promise me that all you say is true  
That's all I ask of you.  
  
_Christian remembered seeing Satine for the first time, sitting on the swing in her glittering dress. She had been the most beautiful woman he knew he would ever meet. . .not only in her face and body, but the soul that peered hesitantly out from behind her eyes. Her soul had made itself known to him and he had loved it from the first moment. It was all delicate fire and strength, and he knew instinctively that this was the woman he was meant to love.   
  
_Let me be your shelter  
Let me be your light  
You're safe, no one will find you  
Your fears are far behind you.  
  
_ Satine heard Christian's words and took them into her heart. With him, she would be safe. . .from the shining traps of the Moulin Rouge, from the grasps of the Duke. . .safe in his love.   
  
_All I want is freedom, a world with no more night  
And you, always beside me,  
To hold me and to hide me.   
  
_ Christian took both of her hands in his own and sang the question that had haunted him from that first meeting on the dance floor.   
  
_Then say you'll share with me  
One love, one lifetime  
Let me lead you from your solitude  
Say you need me with you, here beside you  
Anywhere you go, let me go too  
Satine, that's all I ask of you.  
  
_ Satine answered him, her faith in their love apparent in her voice.   
  
_Say you'll share with me   
One love, one lifetime  
Say the word and I will follow you.  
  
_Their voices joined together for the first time in the ceremony, remembering the nights and mornings they had spent together in the past, and the ones they would share in the future.  
  
_Share with me each night, each morning.  
  
_Satine hesitated, and conceded to her fear. She needed to hear it just one more time from Christian's lips. She ignored her next line and gave voice to the lingering doubts within her._  
  
Say you love me!  
  
_Christian's response was level, and filled with certainty.   
  
_You know I do.  
  
_Both of them sang out the final lines of the song.   
  
_Love me, that's all I ask of you   
Anywhere you go, let me go too  
Love me, that's all I ask of you . . ._  
  
The song ended, and the priest, visibly shaken, straightened his collar.   
  
I now pronounce you man and wife. You may. . .oh, never mind, he said, seeing Satine and Christian were already kissing each other, as if they had forgotten the guests present.   
  
~-~-~-~  
_Author's Note:   
I don't own anyone or anything (except for the priest), and it's all used without permission, but please don't sue me, as I  
need money for college tution and cash to supply my book addiction.  
  
Songs used: (W/out permission, of course)  
How Can I Continue On?--Jekyll and Hyde  
How Do I Live?--Trisha Yearwood  
Heart of Innocence--Jessica Simpson  
All I Ask of You--Phantom of the Opera  
_


	2. Some Private Time

Chapter II: Some Private Time  
  
The gathering after the wedding was brief, as Christian wanted Satine to be secure in her new home as soon as possible. He only shook hands with the Bohemians, all his goodbyes having been said the night before. He paused when coming to Toulouse, and the small man hugged him tightly. The two of them shared an unlikely bond, and Christian realized how much he meant to him.   
  
Thanks, Toulouse. For everything, he said, blinking back tears.   
  
Take care of the two of you, Christian, Toulouse said unsteadily. And come back to Montmartre sometime with Christian Jr. Satine laughed upon hearing that, and came back to Christian while Zidler vanished out the door.   
  
I hope we can think of more original names than that! she laughed. threading her arm through Christian's. I'm ready, my love. Christian saw a hint of tears in her eyes.   
  
Things all sorted out with Zidler? he asked softly, briefly caressing her cheek. Satine squared her shoulders and nodded.   
  
Yes. . .I'm ready, she said.   
  
All right, Christian said, throwing one last parting look at the Bohemians and Toulouse. Let's go, then.   
  
The ride to the train station was short, and Christian, glancing nervously over at Satine to make sure she was all right, was reassured. The hope her life had shown her had somehow miraculously lessened the attacks on her body by the disease that consumed her. Her cheeks were pinker than he ever remembered them, and her breath was far more regular.   
  
Once they stepped onto the platform, however, Satine paused and her face turned pale again.   
  
Christian asked, feeling the cold fear snake its way into him. Are you all right?   
  
Yes. . . Satine said slowly. It's just that this is farther than I'd ever expected to go from Paris. . .from the Moulin Rouge. She looked down, briefly.   
  
_Come. . .what. . .may,_ Christian whispered into her ear. Satine smiled into his eyes.   
  
_I will love you . . ._ she finished, _until the end. . .of time. . .   
  
_The train is boarding, Christian said gently. Satine put her hand on top of his arm, and together they entered. Satine looked around with surprise at the compartments.   
  
So this is what a train is like, she remarked to Christian.   
  
You've never been in a train before? he was not able to hide his surprise. Satine smiled wryly.   
  
Didn't know what a well-traveled woman you married, did you? she paused briefly as they settled into their seats, and she turned to him. Tell me about England, Christian.   
  
  
  
Yes, what's it like?   
  
Well, uh. . .it's nice.   
  
  
  
And, uh. . .quieter than Montmartre. . . Satine burst out laughing.   
  
And this is the famous Bohemian writer! She kissed his nose. Christian did not respond at first, but rose and did something to the door. Satine watched him, hands on her hips.   
  
What are you doing, Christian? He turned with a rakish grin on his face.   
  
A bit of privacy.   
  
Satine raised her eyebrows. Did you think we could talk about England in private, then? His arms were already about her.   
  
You know. . .a private guide to the country.   
  
I see. . . the rest of her sentence died off as he kissed her.   
  
They were broken off by a knock at the door, and Christian dived away from her as the conductor entered. He rubbed his chin with his hand in a desperate effort to hide the smears of lipstick around his mouth.   
  
I'm sorry, sir, the conductor apologized to Christian. But would you mind taking on another passenger in your compartment? An elderly lady waddled into the room, her face already screwed up in disapproval. I'm sure you'll get along fine!   
  
Christian hunted down a handkerchief, partly to hide the evidence and partly to hide his smile. Satine and the old woman were already glaring at each other, as the woman had brought into several large hatboxes and plunked one right between Satine and Christian.   
  
Christian began.   
  
Don't want to hear any introductions, the old woman snapped. I have neuralgia and it's aggravated by speech. Just want you to be quiet. Those hooligan children almost drove me to my death, so I'm here. Christian peered out the window to the compartment across from them, where three small, primly dressed little girls were quietly embroidering. He sighed, and turned to Satine. Taking her hand, he was interrupted by a screech.   
  
I don't know what kind of loose rules you young people think morals are these days, but I don't want to see that kind of display in front of my very eyes. Heaven preserve us all!   
  
We're just married-- Christian said desperately, but he was interrupted once again.   
  
All the more reason! Marriage is a sacred state, young man! And you, young woman! Don't give me that disrespectful look! Satine sighed. All right. That was it.   
  
Excuse me, Madam, but have you tried the new kind of face powder that has just been created? I hear it's simply wonderful for wrinkles on fat old women who are nosy old gossips who have nothing better to do than sound like banshees. The woman's face turned a peculiar shade of purple and gathering her hatboxes, she let out a very unattractive cry for the conductor. Wearily, the man appeared and took her bags, leading her to next available compartment. Christian laughed.   
  
Lovely, Satine.   
  
I aim to please, she said seductively, playing with his collar. Speaking of which, do you want to show me that lovely privacy feature this place has? Christian obliged, pulling the curtain down tightly. Sitting back down, he found himself with his arms around Satine, kissing her deeply. The faint perfume that lingered about her hair was a delicate scent, and he buried his face in the rippling tresses, as she gently stroked his back. He held her softly, encircling her with his love.   
  
Satine felt anew the sense of wonderment that came over her every time she was in Christian's arms. She had been touched so many times before him, by so many different men, but each time she had felt nothing, just a strange twinge of pleasure mixed with pain as she gave them her body. . .but never her heart. Christian awoke sensations she'd never known she could have, a feeling in her soul that she was infinitely precious and secure in his love. The brushing of his fingertips sent chills up her spine, and the barest look with his soft blue eyes made her heart sing.   
  
she said quietly, drawing back a little.   
  
What is it? he whispered, resting his head against her own.   
  
We haven't--well--we haven't shared a bed since the show, she murmured, a strange sort of embarrassment coming over her as she spoke of it. Satine shook her head bemusedly--a courtesan embarrassed by the thought of sharing a bed? But she shoved the feeling aside for later examination.   
  
The doctor said you should have no strain on your health, no. . .physical . . .expenditures, he stumbled over the words, almost as innocent as their first night together, so long ago.   
  
she said, her thoughts returning to the odd emotion.   
  
I didn't mean to--   
  
Of course you didn't, darling, Satine smiled. I know. And I'll be well soon. Christian wrapped his arms around her again.   
  
You will, he said fiercely. I know you will.   
_  
_~-~-~-_  
Author's Note: I don't own anyone or anything (except for the fat old lady who provides pitiful comic relief), and it's all  
used without permission, but please don't sue me, as I need money for college tution and cash to supply my book  
addiction.  
  
Songs used: (W/out permission, but with grateful appreciation)  
Come What May   
Obviously.   
  
_


	3. Something's Wrong

Chapter III: Something Wrong  
  
A month or so later, Satine sat in her dressing gown on the window seat, watching Christian poke around in the garden. He had tossed aside his jacket and over-shirt, and was cheerfully digging around in the dirt. She laughed, and he glanced up long enough from his work to wink mischievously at her.   
  
Excuse me, Madam, the young maid Anne tapped on the door and opened it at the same time, leaving Satine to wonder bemusedly at her notions of privacy.   
  
Yes, Anne? she asked, turning away from the window. The maid bobbed a curtsy, dark curls following every energetic motion of her head.   
  
If you please, Madam, there's a letter for Monsieur. I thought I'd better bring it in to you.   
  
Thank you, Anne, Satine said absently, taking the letter in hand. Christian's name was written in crabbed, spidery writing across the envelope. Her brow creased, and she laid the letter on the desk. Now, I'm ready to get dressed. The doctor is coming by at three, is he not?  
  
Yes, Madam, Anne said cheerfully, already loosening the curtains to allow Satine privacy, which Satine permitted her to do more out of respect for the maid's sensibilities than anything else. What will you wear today, Madam?   
  
The. . .brown suit and eggshell blouse, Satine replied, already stepping out of her gown and into her undergarments. Please tie the corset a bit tighter than usual. Anne paused, a surprised look on her face.   
  
Satine waved a hand unconcernedly.   
  
I'll be fine, and I'm not about to let my figure go to ruin. Now, please, Anne.  
  
Yes, Madam, Anne said dutifully, privately wondering why her mistress was worrying about her slim figure at all.   
  
All right, thank you, Satine said appreciatively as the maid put the finishing touches on her hair. If my husband asks for me, I'll be in the study, reading, all right, Anne?   
  
Yes, Madam, Anne repeated for the third time, and dipping her head in another curtsy, left. Before leaving the bedroom, Satine paused and fingered the letter. Who would Christian be receiving letters from?   
  
With one swift movement, Satine tucked the letter into her waist and headed towards the kitchen. Her curiosity rose up and she peered into the abandoned room. The cook was at the market, and Anne was sponging one of Christian's shirts in the laundry. The kettle was still steaming, however, and that was all Satine needed.   
  
A few minutes later, Satine was curled up in a chaise in the study, deeply engrossed in the letter. Her color had risen, and her breath came in shorter gasps, strictly against the doctor's orders. But the contents of the letter were-- Satine shook her head angrily at it.   
  
_Christian--  
I will not be made a fool of myself, nor do I enjoy repeating the words I have spoken before. You will bring this wife of yours to London the moment she is well enough to travel, and we will discuss your future. Your mother is beside herself, something that should give you concern, but whether you feel any ties of familial obligation is certainly doubtful, judging by your past behavior. You are not to send out any announcements of your marriage until I have met the woman. I expect that you will remember any financial assistance I have provided was conditional only.   
Yours, etc.   
  
_ Satine put the letter down on her lap, engrossed in her thoughts. Clearly there was more to his father's help than Christian had led her to believe. And it was just as obvious that she was on trial as his wife, and the judging would commence the moment her foot hit English soil. She was startled by the door opening--there was no time to hide the letter, nor any evidence of her tampering. Christian stood there, a wide smile on his face and holding a bunch of lilies in his hand. He stopped short the moment he saw the paper in her lap and her face. He put the flowers on the desk and bent his head over it, sighing.   
  
Satine. . . he said quietly. Was there a hint of reproof in his voice? Satine's natural defiance was awakened, and she lifted her chin.   
  
Is there something you haven't been telling me, Christian? she said levelly, holding out the letter. He took it with a sigh, and glanced over the brief contents.   
  
I didn't want to bother you, Satine. Satine's blue eyes snapped, and she glared at her husband.   
  
I was not aware that our concerns were a bother, Christian. Christian simply glared back at her.   
  
I was not aware that I did not have privacy in matters of my own correspondence, he said sharply back to her, and inside, she flinched. Not once, since that horrible day of Spectacular Spectacular, had he used any tone but that of pure gentleness. Her pale, marble-like face did not reveal her inner tumult, however, and she stood her ground.   
  
Privacy is one thing, Christian, and deceit is quite another! Christian's face flushed.   
  
Perhaps if you trusted me, Satine, I would not have to worry about either. What were you planning to do with the letter? Tell me now, or perhaps in a few months? Or would you just burn it and think I would have things under control? This is not the Moulin Rouge, Satine, and I am not Zidler. Satine's lips tightened ominously.   
  
I did not think so, she said curtly. I thought you were better than that, Christian. I thought you were my husband. Now it seems that I might have been the one deceived Christian went pale with anger, and took another step closer to her. After one, brief, agonizing moment, he turned and headed the other way. Satine watched the door slam shut behind him, and then collapsed on the chaise, tears running down her face.   
  
Christian strode to his room to change, unfamiliar sensations of anger running through him. How dare she even begin to compare him with Zidler? Hadn't he given everything for her? He stopped by their bed and sat down on it, his hands covering his face. Why did she still hold him at bay, long after he had given her his whole heart? Why couldn't she trust him to do what was right for her? Raising his head, he began to sing quietly.   
  
_We've never been this way before  
We've lost the fire we built our dream on.  
There's something strange,  
There's something wrong. . .   
  
_ In the study, Satine raised her tear-stained face from the pillow. She wiped her eyes delicately and turned her head to gaze at a photograph of herself in the Moulin Rouge, wearing an elaborate evening gown.   
  
_The past is holding me, keeping life at bay  
I wander lost in yesterday, wanting to fly  
But scared to try. . .  
This is a world I've never seen before  
A love to open every door. . .  
To set me free, to let me soar. . .  
  
_ Unknown to the other, they both sang a line together.   
  
_I've never felt this way before. . .   
  
_At precisely 3:00, Satine was disturbed from her thoughts from a knock on the door. She flew up, arranging her hair, hoping it was Christian, but her heart fell when she saw it was Anne and the doctor.   
  
Pardon the interruption, Madam, the doctor said, inclining his hat to her. I just need to borrow a few moments of your time.   
  
You're sure? Satine asked half an hour later. Absolutely certain that I'm fine?   
  
Well, you must be careful to avoid severe illness, and stay bundled up when it's cold out, but yes, otherwise than that, you can live your life to the fullest, Madam. He paused, his bag in his hand. You're remarkably lucky, Madam. Satine's brow creased.   
  
What do you mean?   
  
No adverse side effects. . .well, perhaps it happens. If anything feels wrong, you'll get in touch with me right away?   
  
Of course, Satine said, rising from her chair.   
  
No, no, don't bother, the doctor assured her, leaving. I can show myself out. Good day, Madam.   
  
Good day, Satine murmured, watching him leave. Ordinarily, she would have run to Christian to tell him. But now, she wasn't quite sure if he wanted to see her. How could she have spoken so coldly to him? Even so, maybe this news would forgive her harsh words from earlier. . .  
  
she called.   
  
Yes, Madam?   
  
Where is Monsieur Everett?   
  
He asked me to tell you that he's gone out and won't be home until late, Madam.   
  
Satine asked, her heart sinking. Thank you, Anne. She closed her eyes in pain.   
  
How he must despise me. . . she whispered.   
  
Christian strode along the streets, his face set in an expression of frustration and remorse. He couldn't believe that he had lost his temper and spoken to Satine like that.   
  
How she must hate me. . . he murmured. He continued to walk, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets, absorbed in his own gnawing sense of guilt.   
  
Meanwhile, Satine sat alone on their bed, staring out the window as the sky darkened. At dinner, she sat motionless, aimlessly picking at the food.   
  
Anne's voice sounded small from the doorway as she left Satine after preparing her for bed. Pardon my forwardness, but are you all right? Satine stared down at her hands for a long moment and then back at the girl.   
  
Yes. . .yes, of course. Thank you, Anne. I'll see you tomorrow morning. Anne nodded, leaving Satine all alone in the room. She sat rigidly, her hands folded tightly on her lap.   
  
Christian glanced up from an untouched glass of wine in the seedier part of town. A young, slender, dark-haired girl watched him from the shadows, her painted lips pouting. His eyes met hers and she brushed a hand down her bodice, slowly.  
  
Satine stood uneasily at the large window, gazing out at the star-filled night. She shifted her feet, her eyes filled with pain. She wiped a single tear away and turned to go back into the room. . .  
_  
~-~-~-  
Author's Note:   
I don't own anyone or anything (except for sundry minor characters), and it's all used without permission, but please don't sue me, as I need money for college tution and cash to supply my book addiction. Christian's last name I created and I think it fits nicely.   
  
Songs used: (W/out permission, of course. . .you expected something else?)  
His Work and Nothing More--Jekyll and Hyde sung in duet with  
Someone Like You--Jekyll and Hyde  
  
Song Note: I have changed a few small things on some of the songs in this fic, like pronouns or minor wording, to make it fit the story better. Just in case you were wondering. ;-)  
_


	4. To the Night

Chapter IV: To the Night  
  
Christian looked down at the cheap wine, swallowing against the bitterness in his throat. Sighing, he eased his head down against his hand. Why did everything seem so wrong? And what had drawn him back here towards the darker side of life that every town held. . .even one so seemingly small and harmless as this one. His gaze caught the dark-haired girl once again, whose downcast eyes revealed everything about her life. Satine had been a courtesan like that. . .a prostitute. Selling herself for money. He couldn't pretend it hadn't been that way, couldn't sing the reality of it away. Nor could he pray for the past to become just a figment of his imagination. His wife. How many men had tasted the sweetness of her lips, the tenderness of her voice as she spoke to him in the dark?   
  
Christian took his first sip of the wine. The buzzing sensation that blurred the edges of everything in the bar would soon follow, and he could spend the night in a drunk oblivion.   
  
Scuse me, a strange, lilting feminine voice said to him.   
Christian glanced up wearily.   
  
The dark-haired prostitute raised her own glass in a mock salute and sang in a dark, throaty voice.   
  
_Here's to the night!  
Here's to romance!  
To those unafraid of taking a chance!   
  
_She paused, and then leaned in close to him.   
  
I believe you are expecting me?   
  
Christian felt the shock of recognition and a strange sort of peace come over him. A thousand images of Satine came together in a vision. . .her laughing, crying, dancing, kissing, making love, sitting, sleeping. . . Almost as if his mind were elsewhere, he answered the girl in song.   
  
_I think I've taken enough for one day!  
And I have learned it to my cost  
It's not the fun that it might be  
Once you have lost!   
  
_ He placed a few bills on the table. Maybe they would mean the girl could spend the night in peace, perhaps with someone she loved rather than selling herself. He knew the cruelty of her life, and perhaps. . .perhaps he could do a little thing to make it better.   
  
Thank you, he said, leaving the bar and the astonished girl behind him. He walked out with a curious spring in his step. He was going home to his beloved wife. . .home.   
  
Satine lay silently in bed, surrounded by the darkness. She had never noticed how large the bed seemed without Christian beside her. She closed her eyes in pain, and hugged his pillow close to her, drinking in the scent of him that she loved. . .the warm, spicy, tender scent that seemed to mark Christian. She shook her head. Never before had she been so utterly and completely linked to a person that she felt this emptiness inside her once they were gone. She rose abruptly, letting the covers slide away as the clock chimed twelve. She sank down to the floor in front of the dying embers of the fire.  
  
She couldn't lie awake in bed and pretend to herself that she didn't mind. She did. At one point in her life, men could have treated her like dirt and she would have swallowed the pain and remain indifferent. No more.   
  
_Oceans apart, it seems that way  
And I slowly go insane  
I hear your voice in my mind,  
But it doesn't stop the pain.  
If we can't be together,  
How can we say forever?  
  
_Satine stared deep into the glowing coals as a fiery piece broke off and tumbled down against the cast iron gate. Her face was thrown into contrasting light and shadow, but the sadness she felt was somehow alleviated by her next thoughts. She loved Christian, and he loved her. Nothing could change that, not sorrows or anger or even death. They had promised their lives to each other, to follow through times of fear, and to wait even through times of trouble.   
  
_Wherever you go,  
Whatever you do,  
I will be right here waiting for you.  
Whatever it takes,   
Or how my heart breaks,   
I will be right here waiting for you.  
_  
Christian's voice rang out as he entered the room, and Satine turned in surprise.   
  
_I wonder how we can survive this romance  
But in the end if I'm with you, I'll take the chance!  
  
_ she whispered, standing and gathering her robe about herself.   
  
he said tenderly, resting his forehead against hers. God, I'm so sorry. . .   
  
No, I am, she protested, gathering him in her arms. He held her closely, and they sank down on the chaise together.   
  
he said softly. I love you so much. . .I'm so sorry. I've been so wrong by not telling you about this. . .I was just afraid for you.   
  
You don't have to be anymore, she whispered, leaning her head against his shoulder. I'm well, Christian. I'm going to live.   
  
The joy was apparent in his face and voice as embraced her. Oh, thank God. . .oh, thank God. . . They sat there, together, for a long time, while the fire burned out, and Satine stirred gently.   
  
she whispered, drawing him back from the silent reverie they had been sharing.   
  
  
  
In response, she kissed him, long and tenderly. He touched her cheek gently, almost timidly, and the sweet innocence of the gesture awoke Satine's soul.   
  
I love you, she said quietly.   
  
I love you, he echoed. They stood, together, and walked over the window.   
  
Look at the stars, Satine said softly. I used to think they were diamonds. Christian?   
  
What is it, darling?  
  
Would you write a song for us tonight?   
  
Christian did not respond at first, but only rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. After a moment, he hummed a tune briefly and sang, in what Satine thought of as his poet's voice, the voice that had captured her heart.   
  
_Listen as the wind blows from across the great divide  
Voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time  
The night is my companion, and solitude my guide  
Would I spend forever here and not be satisfied? _  
  
He turned to look at Satine, who stood illuminated by a shaft of pale starlight. Her dark red hair was in strict contrast to her white nightdress, and her pale face was very sweet in the night. He took both her hands in his and let his song take shape.   
  
_And I would be the one  
To hold you down  
Kiss you so hard  
I'll take your breath away  
And after, I'd wipe away the tears  
Just close your eyes, dear.   
  
_Satine followed suit, her beautiful soprano voice lending a silver tranquility to the words.   
  
_Through this world I've stumbled  
So many times betrayed  
Trying to find an honest word to find  
The truth enslaved.   
  
_She ran her hands up his chest, and he drew in a sharp breath.   
_  
Oh, you speak to me in riddles,  
You speak to me in rhymes.  
My body aches to breathe your breath,  
Your words keep me alive.   
  
_Christian kissed her, a kiss filled with all the pent-up longing and passion that had been pushed away for the sake of her health. Satine sank deep in his kiss, feeling herself lost and found all in the same moment.   
  
Just close your eyes, dear, Christian whispered to her as they found themselves on the bed.   
  
Afterwards, Satine found herself lying in Christian's arms as he slept. She was too happy to sleep right away, and she smiled mysteriously at the ceiling as she quietly sang to herself.   
  
_And I would be the one  
To hold you down  
Kiss you so hard  
I'll take your breath away  
And after, I'd wipe away the tears  
Just close your eyes, dear.  
  
_Christian awoke briefly during her song, and drew her closer to him.   
  
_Just close your eyes, dear.   
~-~-~-  
Author's Note:   
I don't own anyone or anything (except for sundry minor characters), and it's all used without permission, but please don't sue me, as I need money for college tution and cash to supply my book addiction.  
  
Songs used: (W/out permission, blah, blah)  
Lucy Meets Jekyll--Jekyll and Hyde  
Right Here Waiting--Richard Marx  
--Sarah McLachlan  
  
Song Note: I have changed a few small things on some of the songs in this fic, like pronouns or minor wording, to make it fit the story better. Just in case you were wondering. ;-)  
_


	5. Journey to the Past

Chapter V: Journey to the Past  
  
Satine's nose was very inelegantly pressed up against the window, giving it a slightly squashed look as she turned away.   
  
Christian chuckled, reaching out a hand for her. She raised an eyebrow and sank down next to him, drumming her fingers against the windowsill.   
  
How much further? she asked curiously, twisting her wedding band.   
  
Not much. Satine?  
  
  
  
  
Where did you learn to speak English so well? he inquired, genuinely puzzled. Most of the time they spoke French, of course, but there were times when Satine would demand he spoke her in English so she could practice her skills. Satine shrugged.   
  
I just picked it up, I suppose. Harold insisted that all the Diamond Dogs be able to speak it. . .for all of the English and American visitors, you know. She stayed silent for a moment, her eyes focused on something far behind her in the past. I learned a lot of things when I met him.   
  
When did you meet him? Christian's interest perked up as soon as she mentioned her past. He knew very little about Satine's life before he met her.   
  
I was a girl of, I don't know, perhaps thirteen or so. Old enough that you could see I was going to be beautiful. She played absently with the hem of her jacket. I had been living on the street ever since my mother died. . . God knows who my father was.   
  
How old were you when your mother died? Christian asked softly, resting his hand on hers.   
  
Nine. . .ten. . . .around then. She had always been sick. I don't remember her very well, to be honest. . .she was. . .not . . .awake a great deal of the time. They tried to put me in a place for foundlings once, and I ran back home. It wasn't much, but it was home. She shook her head. I don't like to remember that. She pressed a hand to her mouth, sighing. I want to think I've forgotten most of it.   
  
Have you? Satine smiled wryly, drawn back to the present by the concern in his voice.   
  
Her voice changed, becoming more brisk and cheerful. When I met Harold, I was a grubby little thief. . .he found me, uh, loitering in front of a theatre, watching the people pour out. I remember I loved seeing all the furs and diamonds the ladies wore. She pressed her lips together. He brought me to the Moulin Rouge at the same time he found Nini.  
  
Christian found it impossible to disguise the surprise in his voice.  
  
Yes. . .Nini. As Satine related the rest of the story, Christian began to picture it as it must have happened so many years ago. . .  
  
Now, you must be very good, little ones, Harold said cheerfully. If you work very hard, perhaps one day you'll be the star of the show. . .but only if you are the very best. There can only be one star, you know. The two little girls nodded energetically, and Harold studied them both. One was a small, dark-haired girl with a clever look in her eyes--more of the standard issue for the girls he had here. But the other. . .Satine, she had said her name was. She was a small, porcelain doll with red curls and blue eyes that were striking even at thirteen. Yes, she was the more promising of the two. . .Harold shook away his thoughts and strode off. As soon as he was out of sight, Nini shoved Satine in a pile of costumes.   
  
There's only one star of the Moulin Rouge, and it's going to be me, you understand? Me! Satine watched in stunned disbelief as Nini did a dainty little pirouette and walked off, her nose in the air. She pulled herself out of the costumes and found herself holding a sparkling black gown. Satine was small for her age, but her slightly awkward proportions promised her a tall, slender womanhood. She put the gown down and found a lacy undergarment. Satine's eyes opened wide, and she held it up to herself. She placed a large feather in her hair and smiled at her reflection. She was so absorbed in her performance that she didn't notice the woman standing there until she spoke.   
  
You're a pretty little girl. . .what's your name, dearest? Satine turned in shock to find a beautiful blonde woman wearing a deep red corset and a sheath of gold.   
  
she said unsteadily. The woman raised her eyebrows.   
  
Satine, eh? Well, I'm Marie. The woman took the undergarment from Satine. You're too young to be wearing things like this, she muttered. Don't want to give those gents any ideas.   
  
Satine asked, puzzled. Marie shook her head.   
  
Never you mind, darling. . . never you mind. Now, why don't you come up with me to my dressing room, and I'll see if there's something you can do.   
  
Marie took me under her wing, Satine said softly to Christian, lying against his chest as he stroked her hair. She became the closest thing to a mother I had. She protected me when I needed it, and taught me the things I would have to know to become the star. Nini made the rather catastrophic mistake of making fun of her behind her back, and that gave me the advantage. I had Marie's support. . .and by the time I was eighteen, her career was ending. . .but mine was just beginning. She stayed on, first as a lesser dancer, than, as I became more popular, as my maid. I became the Sparkling Diamond four years before you met me. She sighed, and rested her chin on her hand. I miss her. And Harold, too. They were both very kind to me, in their own ways. She closed her eyes briefly. Oh, but Christian, if I hadn't met you. . .   
  
Christian put his arms around her and rocked her gently.   
  
I was blessed. . .and cursed. . .in one thing, though, she said abruptly. I was never with child. Not once.   
  
Did you want one? Christian asked her quietly.   
  
No. . .and yes. She let out a breath, and she bit her lip, as if about to cry.   
  
Let's not talk about it anymore, Christian said, squeezing her hand. It's all in the past now, Satine. It's not there to haunt you anymore.   
  
Satine said. she repeated, bringing her thoughts back to the present with an effort. What are we facing here, Christian? He shrugged, puzzled.   
  
I don't really know, he admitted. I was disinherited for coming to Montmartre, and I was very surprised that Father even sent me so much as a penny, much less the sum he did.   
  
Perhaps he was relieved that you were somewhat respectable after all, Satine suggested doubtfully.   
  
Christian said slowly. Satine pulled herself out of his embrace to look him straight in the eye.   
  
What's your family like, Christian? Christian raised his eyebrows.   
  
Father's very traditional. . .my mother is. . .very quiet. She loves her children, but she would never say a word against Father. She's devoted to him. . .she's nearly twenty years his junior, you see. My brother Will is a harmless young man. . . he lives his life out of the way of Father and in his studies. Peter is. . .well, Peter and I have never really gotten along. He always seemed to be very unscrupulous to me. . .always pushing me and Will out of the way to get Father's attention. My sister Margaret is like Mother. . . very quiet, demure, gentle.   
  
No one's anything like you then, Satine said lightly, brushing imaginary dust off his coat sleeve.   
  
Afraid not, Christian said absently, tucking his arm about her. Satine covered her mouth as she yawned.   
  
How much further, Christian? I don't think I'm ever going to get used to riding on a train.   
  
About an hour, Christian replied. Do you want to go to sleep? Satine nodded, and lay down, her head in his lap. He touched her mass of red curls and smiled. She was so very beautiful and infinitely precious to him. . .  
  
Christian said, gently shaking her awake. Satine, we're here. Satine sat straight up, barely missing Christian's chin with her head.   
  
What? Why didn't you wake me up earlier? She hurriedly found a pocket mirror and checked her hair.   
  
You look fine, Christian said without sparing her a glance. Don't worry about it. It's me they're going to be watching, not you. Satine frowned.   
  
Somehow, Christian, that was not the impression I got. She stood and touched his cheek after pulling on his gloves.   
  
  
  
he replied, a soft look in his eyes. He moved towards her and Satine raised a finger.   
  
Absolutely not.   
  
he asked, managing to look saddened by her words. Satine tried to hide her smile, but it blossomed across her face despite her best efforts.  
  
Not until tonight.   
  
Christian tried to frown, but he was as unsuccessful as his wife. She laughed at him as she gathered her things.   
  
I'm going to the powder room for just a minute, all right, dear?   
  
All right, he replied, holding the door open for her. Before she left, she paused and kissed him briefly.   
  
It'll be all right, love.   
  
Christian stared out at the busy London station, his thoughts drifting away from Satine to the ordeal that awaited them both. She was right--he was not the only one his family would be studying. But he loved her, and they had survived things worse than his family. Everything would be all right. He leaned his arm against the baggage railing and sighed.   
  
_Heart, don't fail me now!  
Courage, don't desert me!  
Don't turn back now that we're here  
People always say,  
Life is full of choices  
No one ever mentions fear. . .  
Or how the world can seem so vast  
On a journey to the past. . .   
  
_Inhaling deeply, Christian found their bags and walked out to meet Satine. As he offered his arm to her, he felt the uneasy feeling of being watched. He glanced up to meet the disapproving glance of his entire family. 


	6. Secrets Revealed

Chapter VI: Secrets Revealed  
  
Christian's father, a tall, elderly man with a severe beard, gravely took his son's hand in his own and shook it as casually as one business associate might do to another. Satine searched his face, but saw nothing in it that would link Christian to him as his son. Christian's mother was a little better--she was small and slender, with soft, greying brown hair and large blue eyes, but instead of dreaming and sparkling, her eyes were quiet and filled with hidden meaning.  
  
Satine murmured, nodding to her mother-in-law. The woman paused and stepped forward, hesitantly touching Satine's hand with her own.   
  
She does speak English, doesn't she, Christian? Christian's father interrupted, giving Satine a black look. She raised an expressive eyebrow, and was tempted to sprout off a rattle of French to him, but stopped herself.   
  
Yes, I do, Mr. Everett. Her voice was chilly in response to their continual frowns.   
  
he paused for breath. His wife filled the gap after an awkward moment had passed.   
  
I am. . .very glad to meet you at last, dear.   
  
Yes, Satine, I often wondered if I'd see you at all. He pronounced it as satin,' and Satine threw a despairing glance at her husband.  
  
It is Satine, Father, Christian said quietly.   
  
Oh, well, I never did understand French names. Margaret! Margaret! Come greet your brother and his wife! Margaret followed her mother. She was a bit taller than her parent, and her hair did not have the streaks of grey, but otherwise, she was exactly as Christian had described her--exactly like the mother.   
  
she whispered, giving Satine a dubious smile which slowly blossomed into the real thing. Satine blinked with surprise. Margaret was not at all unattractive when she smiled. Her thick hair was flatly pulled back into a hard little bun, and she wore black cashmere like her mother, but Satine suspected that she was a pretty girl when out of the horrible costume she was contained in.   
And William! The tall, brown-haired man pacing in the back of the room gave her a polite nod.   
  
And, of course, Peter. Satine gave Peter her first genuine smile as he took her hand and bowed over it. He resembled Christian about the face, but his hair was far lighter.   
  
Enchanted, my dear sister, said with an easy grin. And Christian--good to see you back! Christian smiled wanly in response.   
  
Thank you.   
  
Well, let's go. The carriage is waiting.   
  
The ride to Christian's family's home was very quiet--Peter was the only one who spoke directly to Satine the entire time, and his father just stared moodily out the window. Christian kept quiet, ostensibly because he had no opportunity to speak, and in reality because he wanted to watch Peter. He did _seem_ changed, but it didn't ring quite true with Christian. From his experience, Peter never did anything unless he knew he would come off the better for it. But being kind to the wife of the black sheep returned home would hardly fall under that category, would it? Temporarily relieved, he followed his father's example and looked out the window. Had he still been watching a few moments later, when Peter gave a brief, twisted half smile as Satine bent down to brush off her skirt, he would not have rested nearly so easy.   
  
Christian, I would speak with you in my study, his father announced as they entered the large, middle-class home of the Everett's. Christian gave a brief sigh--he had been expecting this, after all. Peter touched Satine's arm as the door swung shut behind them.   
  
Come sit with me and Meg in the library, he said. I think you'll find we're all not ogres in this family, after all.   
  
I hardly would have expected that, Satine smiled, ignoring the half-truth of the statement. Your mother seems very kind.   
  
Ah, yes, Mother. Well, she's not a bad sort, a bit like my silent sister here. Margaret had seated herself at the piano and smiled wryly at Peter's statement.   
  
Do you play, Satine? she asked softly, sorting through her sheet music. Satine shrugged and sat down on a chair near Peter's.   
  
A little. . .nothing like what Christian can do, she said matter-of-factly. I can sing, though, my. . .friends used to delight in it.   
  
Well, then, you've got to entertain us for a while! Peter exclaimed. Meg, play something that our new sister can sing.   
  
Margaret said gently. This is hardly the time. Perhaps after dinner, Satine? she added, shyly smiling.   
  
Perhaps. . .if you think your father will permit it.   
  
Oh, don't mind him, Peter said in an exasperated tone. He's in a bit of a hard place now with Christian, though--what to do--  
  
Margaret snapped. Satine turned in surprise to look at the girl. She was pale, but two spots of red burned on her cheeks.   
  
Oh, I'm sorry, Peter said, looking a little ashamed. Afraid we're all bound to secrecy on that point-- at least for the time. An awkward silence fell over the group until he spoke again. Well, can you tell us a bit about France, Satine?   
  
Satine nodded, but she made a mental note to interrogate Peter further when Margaret was not around. It was already clear that he was the only one in the family she and Christian could depend on.   
  
You must be at a loss for all of this, Christian's father said to him in the study. Christian sat patiently on a hard chair--he knew it would only annoy his father if he chose a softer one--waiting for the judgment to come down on his head. He frowned at his father's conciliatory tone.   
  
Why, yes, Christian admitted. He frowned inwardly at his father's conciliatory tone. Father had been downright civil to him and Satine. . .the welcome, the money. . . Something was not right. His father paced to the window and back again.   
  
Do you remember your aunt Churchill?  
  
Christian asked, interested by the memory of the woman. Yes, of course I remember her. She was always very kind to us all. He remembered his fragile little aunt, who read to him through her thick spectacles.   
  
She was very fond of you, his father continued, perhaps more fond than any of us realized. Enough for her to leave her entire fortune to you and you alone, that is, on one condition. Christian raised his eyebrows.   
  
And that being?  
  
We approve your marriage. I don't think she ever anticipated you running off to a village of sin in Paris, but she was concerned about your obsession with love. The will specifically states that I must approve your marriage for you to inherit; otherwise, it all goes to charity. Christian opened his mouth, but was cut off by his father's next words.   
  
Now. Your wife is prettier than what I consider very proper in a woman, and her taste in dress suggests an indulgent nature. However, she seems to have a little propriety that reassures me that this isn't someone of, shall we say, lesser persuasion. I must say, I'm very pleased to discover you're not wasting your life with a can-can dancer.   
  
Christian glanced nervously at his collar, and tried to speak. This was not was he was expecting in the least--to think that Aunt Jane had actually left her money to him and on such an absurd condition!   
  
I am astonished, Christian said steadily, after a few moments.   
  
I expect, of course, that you will lend some financial support to the family company.   
  
Of course, Christian readily agreed. That made sense. His father was willing to try and make amends because he needed the money. The older man must have noticed the expression on his face, for he scowled.  
  
Don't even begin to think that I would approve your wife if she were anything less than genteel, he said sharply. Christian swallowed against the lump in his throat.   
  
The thought never crossed my mind, Father.   
  
That night, Christian sat on the foot of Satine's bed as she brushed her hair. His mother had placed them in separate chambers, but all that resulted of that was Christian getting a bit of exercise before bed.   
  
What do you think about all this? he finished, looking over at her. Satine was quiet for a minute.   
  
We must be careful, for one thing, she murmured in French.   
  
Yes, but it's still very strange, Satine, he replied in kind. Satine shrugged.   
  
Do you think so? I don't. An eccentric old lady dies and gives her money to a favorite nephew, who has a tendency towards romance. She makes an arrangement with the father to prevent him from ruining his life. It's unusual, but not really that strange, my love.   
  
When you look at it like that, it's not, Christian replied, feeling some relief. Satine, what do you think of Peter?   
He's very kind, Satine said absently. He seems to be the only one willing to talk about things. . .not what I pictured when you described him, she added, putting the brush down. Christian rose and paced to the window.   
  
I don't know if I trust him yet.   
  
Satine said dryly, coming up behind him and putting her arms around his waist. This from the man who came into the Moulin Rouge and trusted the famed courtesan to not betray him.   
  
And I wasn't right?   
  
It was a bad example, she readily conceded. But I don't think we ought to talk about that. . .not even in French, darling.   
  
And you say I'm suspicious. Really, Satine.   
  
That, my dear, is my job. Christian twisted his head to look at her.   
  
Satine nodded briskly.   
  
she said, giving him a brief kiss. I'm going to get my nightdress on.   
  
Satine laughed at his innocent tone.   
  
You don't think I'll need it, Christian?   
  
Not really, no. He tried to remain serious, but broke out into a wide grin. Is the door locked?  
  
  
  
He let the curtain fall to the ground and turned to her.  
  
You seem to be doing that a lot lately, Satine whispered as she fingered the top of his shirt.   
  
I enjoy it quite a bit, Christian replied, grinning mischievously at her.   
  
Satine tried to put a note of shock in her voice, but she just giggled as Christian pulled her onto the bed beside him.   
  
_~-~-~  
Author's note: Still don't own any of this-- not even Christian! :pout: except the Everett's. Only I don't own Christian's father. Humph.   
_


	7. Almost Perfect

Chapter VII: Almost Perfect  
  
Just try it, Margaret, Satine urged her sister as they sat together in the milliner's in front of the mirror. Satine held a small, pale blue hat in her hands. It'll look lovely on you, she said, brushing a brown tendril of hair away from Margaret's face.   
  
Oh, no! Margaret exclaimed, blushing prettily. I mean, it is lovely, she said quickly. But not on me. I'm so plain. . .nothing like you, Satine, she said shyly, admiring her sister-in-law's profile.   
  
Satine said, smiling fondly at the younger woman. You just need to spend time on your hair and wear clothes that bring out your beauty-- which, you have plenty of, my dearest sister.   
  
Papa wouldn't approve, Margaret said wistfully. Satine only laughed.   
  
It's very proper, Margaret! Don't worry, I can talk him around.   
  
He does seem to like you very much, Margaret agreed quietly.   
  
More than I thought he would, at least, Satine smiled. But he seems to be in an amenable humor lately. Even Christian escapes his disapproval. Margaret smiled a little at that, and pressed her hand down on Satine's.   
  
I have always wanted to have a sister, Satine. I'm very glad that I have one now.   
  
As am I, Satine replied. I never thought I'd-- she stopped herself in time, a little flustered by what she had been about to reveal.   
  
Margaret asked curiously.   
  
Have a sister, Satine finished, pressing her fingers to her temples.   
  
Are you all right? Margaret looked at her with alarm as Satine's breath rose and fell a little irregularly.   
  
Yes. . .yes, I'm fine, she answered with more firmness as the brief pain subsided. How strange. . .it's nothing like before.   
  
Are you sure? Margaret said anxiously. Satine blinked and washed away her concern.   
  
Yes, dear, I'm fine. Now, what about this hat?   
  
I don't think so, Margaret said shyly. I mean, it's lovely, but I don't need a new hat right now.   
  
Oh, I see, Satine said, mentally adding to herself that perhaps it would be better to take Margaret shopping _after_ Christian received his inheritance. Well, maybe just a walk through the park, then?   
  
Will you stay in London for a long time, do you think? Margaret asked later, as they sat together, watching the brook flow. Satine glanced down at the sparkling water, her brow creased.   
  
I don't know, she admitted. I do like England-- very much. It's just that I always pictured raising a family in my native country. . .when I dreamed about it, I mean, she added absently, thinking of the secret hope she had been cherishing for quite some time.   
  
I do love children, Margaret said shyly. It may not be very proper of me to say so, but I'm very much looking forward to being an aunt. She looked anxiously at Satine, who only laughed.   
  
I've heard a good many more improper things in my lifetime, my dear girl! Satine said with a wry smile. I do agree, though, she added in a softer tone. Margaret began to blush even before she spoke.   
  
You and my brother seem to have a very . . .happy marriage. I hope that someday I'll meet someone like that. . .speaking of which, when did you meet Christian? Satine opened her mouth, thought better of it, and chose a new story.   
  
At a--ball! she exclaimed, mentally casting around for the most truthful lie. Margaret's blue eyes opened wide.   
  
A ball?   
  
Yes, and we danced.   
  
Oh, how romantic! Margaret sighed. So many men must have wanted to dance with you that night-- why did you choose him?   
  
Well. . . Satine said slowly. I was supposed to be dancing the night with a very wealthy and eligible duke. . .  
  
A duke!   
  
Yes, but I mistook Christian for him when my--my father pointed out the wrong man as the duke.  
  
My goodness! Margaret gasped, pressing a hand to her mouth in a rather comic fashion.   
  
And we had a bit of a miscommunication, Satine added mischievously, remembering the poetry reading' in the elephant. But he recited one of his poems. . .and I fell in love with him right then and there.   
  
What did your family think? Margaret asked softly. Satine saw her eyes were wide with concern.   
  
Well, they disapproved at first, Satine said lightly. But after they saw us together, my father gave us his blessing. We lost our fortune soon after that, she added, remembering Christian's letter. And I was sick, but we were very happy together, Christian and I, no matter how bad things got. We still are so very, very happy. Margaret smiled sweetly, and was about to speak when they were interrupted by a manly voice.   
  
What a story, sister of mine! I knew my brother was a hopeless romantic, but who would have ever dreamed he'd end up like that! Satine felt a flash of annoyance and turned, but her anger melted when she saw Peter's face. He looked so very much like Christian. . .and she did like her brother-in-law very much.   
  
Hello, Peter, Margaret said coldly, rising from the bench.. Satine caught her tone and looked at Peter with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged.   
  
Going somewhere, Meg? he asked cheerfully, sitting down by Satine.   
  
As a matter of fact, yes, Margaret said curtly, drawing on her gloves. Good afternoon, Satine. Peter. With that, Margaret strode off, her head held high in an unfamiliar pose of disdain.   
  
What on earth was that all about? Satine asked curiously. Peter shrugged again.   
  
Meg's not very fond of me, to tell the truth. She thinks I'm a bit too open and friendly with everyone, and wishes I'd devote all of my spare time to her.   
  
Satine looked out at the meadow before her, puzzling over Margaret's behavior. That's a great pity.  
  
Yes, well, you know how these things are. Care to join me for a bit of a walk? Satine agreed, and gave him her arm. They were laughing together in the park when Peter suddenly turned to her.   
  
Say, Satine, I'm in a spot of trouble. My Parisian friend is begging for more details about you and Christian, only I don't know the names to fill in that very romantic story I just heard. Don't suppose you could help me out? Satine felt the coldness of her fear snake up her spine and lazily wind around her neck.  
  
My maiden name, is that really all you want? she forced a smile as she spoke. All you had to do is ask, silly.   
  
Then. . .  
  
But since you didn't, I'll leave you and your friend in suspense, Satine said lightly. That's a proper punishment.   
  
  
  
Oh, don't be a goose, Peter. With that, she picked up her trailing skirt and looked away at the pond. Look! A family of ducks! How absolutely precious!   
  
Peter murmured as she tripped off. How precious.   
  
They got home barely in time to change for dinner, and Satine had only a few hurried moments to acquaint Christian with what had happened.   
  
he said. Just watch yourself. Peter's just nosing around, Satine, trying to dig something up. You can lead him around by the nose, darling, just like that Duke. Satine gave a crooked smile, but she couldn't help feeling uneasy when she took her seat at the dinner table between Christian and Peter.   
  
Christian, you really have to go, his father was insisting. If you leave tomorrow, you can be back in only a few days. Things will be finished much faster this way.   
  
All right, Christian said reluctantly. Will you be all right, Satine?   
  
Satine smiled brightly. Of course.   
  
You're sure, darling? Christian asked later that night as he finished packing.   
  
Yes. I think I was just taking things out of proportion with Peter. He really is a nice man, Christian. Looks a lot like you, she added, playing with his hair.   
  
Just make sure you don't mistake me for him, Christian said dryly, turning and holding his arms around her waist. Satine laughed.   
  
I don't think there's much danger of that! she said, wrapping her arms about him.  
  
I hope not, Christian said. His tone changed, and he looked up at her. Are you happy here, Satine? Satine paused and bit her lower lip.   
  
Yes, actually. Your father is really tolerable, and your mother and Margaret are very sweet indeed. William doesn't say much, and Peter, despite his intrigues, she laughed. Is a very dear boy indeed. Things are. . .almost perfect here.   
  
Christian agreed.   
  
~-~-~  
I don't own most of these characters, Baz does. But please don't sue me.   



	8. Discovery

Chapter VIII: Discovery  
  
The next day passed slowly and painfully for Satine. Christian had left early that morning, with only a sweet kiss and a smile to last her for the next few days. She hadn't realized how much she needed him. . .how much he meant to her. A life without love was meaningless indeed, she thought wryly as she sat in with Margaret in the parlor. Margaret was dutifully sewing while Satine sat and daydreamed.   
  
Margaret asked suddenly.   
  
  
  
What's it like, being in love?   
  
Oh. . . Satine said quietly. It's like. . .it's like you've never seen the sky before. The world suddenly seems a perfect place. . .and it all revolves around that one person. Margaret nodded sagely, but her face remained blank. Satine sighed and rose, walking over to the piano. Her fingers ran over the keys for a moment, than she struck a chord and began to sing.  
  
_Lovers. . .are very special people  
They're the luckiest people alive  
With one person. . .one very special person  
A feeling deep in your soul  
Says you were half, now you're whole,  
No more hunger and thirst. . .  
  
_Margaret's face was suddenly illuminated and Satine smiled widely at her.   
  
she said, rising from the piano bench. You see?   
  
Yes. . . Margaret said thoughtfully. I do.   
  
That night, Satine sat in her bedroom, watching the stars come out into full glory against the velvet sky. She picked up Christian's coat, and buried her face in it. For a brief moment, it was almost as if he was there again. The memory of his voice filled her ears, and she let herself live briefly in the dream of him.  
  
In his small hotel room in the English countryside, Christian rose and paced to the window. God, he missed her so much. He was part of her now, and she was part of him. They needed each other constantly, to make sure that this wasn't a dream that they would awaken from. Christian smiled and rubbed his forehead. Never, in all the fancy-filled dreams of his youth, had he imagined love would feel like this.   
  
Satine leaned her cheek against the cool glass and began to sing softly.   
  
_Late at night when all the world is sleeping  
I stay up and think of you. . .   
  
_As if hearing her voice, Christian followed suit.   
_  
And I wish on a star  
That somewhere you are thinking of me too. . .  
  
_Satine smiled out at the sky, images of Christian filling her mind.  
  
_Cause I'm dreaming of you tonight  
Till tomorrow I'll be holding you tight  
And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be  
Than here in my room dreaming about you and me.  
  
_ Christian paused.   
  
_Wonder if you'll ever hear me and I wonder if you know I'm here  
When you looked in my eyes you saw what's inside  
And you always care.  
_  
Satine blew a kiss out the window to Christian, wherever he was._  
  
I just wanna hold you close but tonight  
All I have are dreams of you  
So I wait for the day and the time that I'll say  
How much I love you.  
  
_As if they were together in the room, their voices joined in a final verse. _  
_  
_I'll be dreaming of you tonight  
Till tomorrow and for all of my life  
And there's nowhere in the world I'd rather be  
Than here in my room dreaming with you endlessly. . .  
  
_Lovely voice. The hard, caustic voice broke through the magic spell Satine had woven for herself in the bedroom. She pressed both hands to her mouth in horror. Oh, God, no, please no, not now. . .  
  
But I imagine you don't become the star of the Moulin Rouge without one.   
  
~-~-~  
I own freaking well nothing. Except all of Christian's family minus the dad.   
  
Songs used:  
--Funny Girl  
Dreaming of You--Selena


	9. When Dreaming Ends

Chapter IX: When Dreaming Ends  
  
Satine said shakily, rising to her feet. What are you--   
  
Stop it, Satine. A cruel gleam appeared in his eyes. Or should I say the Sparkling Diamond? Satine raised her chin in defiance.   
  
You have no proof. Your father needs the money, who do you think he'll believe? He'll believe what he wants to believe, Peter. Peter inclined his head to her and she coolly stared at him.   
  
Good point. . .but not one that I've failed to consider. He smiled lopsidedly, but the hardness of it sent chills up Satine's spine. He doesn't need the money that much. . .well, or so he thinks.   
  
Satine hissed angrily. She saw what was happening. Peter, in charge of his father's finances. . . What can you possibly hope to gain by this? she said calmly enough. You won't get the money, it'll go to charity.   
  
You're discovered, Peter said casually. He loses the money, loses the business, loses the house, most likely. He'll force your beloved husband to pay back every cent and ruin him and you. . .honestly, Satine, do I have to go on?   
  
What do you want? Satine asked coldly. Peter let her sit in silence for a few moments before speaking.   
  
I want at least half of whatever you get after giving it to father. You can arrange it-- Christian's so stupid in financial matters.  
  
And. . .? Satine asked tightly. Or have you not discovered what else you want? He fixed his eyes on her.   
  
Oh, I already know that, he said calmly. I want you.   
  
Satine hissed, drawing away from him.   
  
Don't pretend to be virtuous, Satine, he said dryly. I know every sordid detail about your past. One night, that's all it will take.   
  
Go hire yourself a whore, Satine said disdainfully.   
  
That's what I thought I was doing. Satine raised a hand to slap him, but he caught her wrist in his hand.   
  
Don't bother fighting it, Satine. I'll win.   
  
How can you be so sure? Satine choked out, trying to free herself from his grip.  
  
I always do, he said, almost casually, and released her so that she flew against the bed. He walked out, leaving her stunned. She buried her face in her hands. She knew only too well how easily Peter had trapped her. If she were to say no. . .it would ruin so many people. Christian's entire family. . .and Christian. Satine rose and walked purposefully over to the window. Her fingers fumbled as she released the curtain. She had been a fool to ever believe that she would be free.   
  
Harold's voice echoed in her head.   
  
We're creatures of the underworld, Satine. . .we can't afford to love.   
  
_Today's the day  
When dreaming ends. . .   
  
_~-~-  
Author's Note: Own the same things as always. Sorry about the shorter chapters and the cliffhanger. . .but I'll update soon! Or will I. . .? ;)  
  
Songs used:   
One Day I'll Fly Away--Guess.   
  
~-~-~  
I own freaking well nothing. Except all of Christian's family minus the dad.   
  
Songs used:  
--Funny Girl  
Dreaming of You--Selena


	10. This is the Moment

Chapter X: This is the Moment  
  
Satine fell back onto the bed, her eyes filling with tears. She buried her face in her hands, sobbing bitterly. Peter had ensnared her in his own twisted creation of deception, and she had no one to turn to. Christian was gone, and Peter would demand her answer before his return.   
  
I have to, she whispered, raising a tear-stained face to the ceiling. She let out a ragged breath. Will it ever stop?   
  
In her heart, Satine had to admit that it wouldn't. She was still the courtesan. She would always be it, and she had no recourse. Love and marriage had made no difference-- respectability and security had made no difference. In the eyes of everyone who ever met her as herself, she would be a whore. Except in the eyes of Christian.   
  
He's not the world, though, Satine said softly to herself. He's my world, but he's not the world we have to live in. What kind of life is this that we've set up for ourselves? He doesn't deserve this. He doesn't deserve the pain I'll give him.   
  
What did he deserve? Satine's smile was tempered with hurt. A woman who was good and strong and pure-- not this. What would happen when love's fleeting spell released him? He would be saddled with a wife he could neither love nor respect. What would he want then? What did he want now?   
  
I don't want you to sleep with him, Christian's voice said softly from her memory. She paused and closed her eyes, remembering the encounter in the hall. It seemed so long ago. . .  
  
Satine blinked, trying to hold back her tears. He could destroy everything, she whispered urgently to him. The Duke could take away her dreams-- Harold's dreams, the dreams of everyone in the Moulin Rouge. Tonight would save them all. Why couldn't Christian understand that? Her heart ached for him, both for him and herself.   
  
It's for us, she whispered, not entirely believing the words she spoke. The pain in Christian's eyes was more than she could bear. You promised, she murmured helplessly. You promised to me that you wouldn't be jealous. He shook his head, disregarding every attempt of hers to soothe him. Satine let out a soft, frustrated breath. He's waiting.   
  
Christian cried quietly. The look in his eyes revealed the extent of his hurt and she hesitated. He wasn't simply jealous. He didn't want her to spend the night with the duke. He wanted to take care of her, to keep her safe. Satine held her cheek against his.   
  
Come what may, she sang into his ear, slowly and tenderly. Christian paused for a long moment, and she stayed there in agony. Finally he stepped away, a look of painful resignation crossing his face.   
  
Come what may, he said, the heartache still apparent on his face as he finally left her. Satine watched him go, her own face hardening with the realization before her. . .  
  
I don't want you to sleep with him, Christian's voice said again from her mind. Satine turned away, as if moving would silence her thoughts.   
  
I don't have a choice, Christian, she said to herself. I don't have a choice. Christian's voice relentlessly pursued her as she rose and went to her vanity.   
  
I don't care. . .I don't care. . .I don't care about the money, Satine.   
  
Satine cried out. No more, please! She dropped to her knees in anguish.   
  
I can't do it, she whispered. Not for what I'd be paid for it. The strange, calming center point of her soul brightened, giving her purpose and drive. She was the courtesan no longer. She was a woman--strong, true, and brave in every action she made, every thought that she had ever expressed. She rested on that ethereal ground, feeling herself gather every dream and hope she had ever possessed.   
  
_This is the moment, _she began quietly, her voice still shaking from her fear and confusion. As she continued to sing, she felt her breath grow steadier, her soprano voice fuller.   
  
_This is the day  
When I send all my doubts and demons  
On their way!  
This is the moment  
This is the time  
When the momentum   
And the moment are in rhyme!   
  
_Satine threw away the coverlet she'd been holding and drew the curtains back. Light poured through the windows, illuminating her and her surroundings.   
  
_Give me this moment,  
This precious chance.  
I'll gather up my past  
And make some sense at last!_  
  
Satine felt all of her fetters dissolve in the bright morning light. She tentatively stretched out towards the sun and smiled triumphantly. She was free of Harold, the Moulin Rouge, the squalid life she had lived.   
  
_This is the moment  
My final test!  
Destiny beckoned,   
I never reckoned second best!  
I won't look down  
I must not fall!  
This is the moment  
The sweetest moment of them all!  
  
_Satine threw off her nightdress and put on the first dress Christian had ever bought her. It was a simple blue dress with a white sash, but nothing was more beautiful than Satine in that dress that morning. As she looked in the mirror, her only regret was that she wished Christian could see her. Before she left her room, she gathered up all her courage and sang one final verse.   
  
_When I look back  
I will always recall  
Moment for moment,  
This was the moment,  
The greatest moment  
Of them all!  
  
_~-~-  
Author's Note: Still nothing belongs to me. Not even Christian. :-(   
Two small items. . .first off, I really, really appreciate everyone's feedback. Not only do you brighten my day and lift my ego, but you quicken the updates. Just some incentive to keep responding. ;-)  
Item number two is that I've noticed a few stories similar to this one in premise, title, etc. I just wanted to stay that I had this story sketched out in my mind before I even started reading MR fiction, and I'm really not stealing from anyone! :-) I think it's great that we take similar ideas in different directions, so my fellow writers, please keep up!   
Thanks!  
  
Songs used:   
Come What May--Moulin Rouge  
This is the Moment--Jekyll and Hyde


	11. The Game is Real

Chapter XI: The Game is Real  
  
Satine crept down the stairs towards Peter's room. If she was right-- and she hoped to God she was-- the _real_ financial details would be hidden in there. She let out a tiny gasp and fled back into the shadows as Peter left his room, whistling cheerfully. Although he was oblivious to her presence, Satine swept him the coldest stare she possessed, and emerged only when his music faded to a dim pitch on the main floor. She pushed the door open and quietly slipped inside.   
  
Satine knew exactly where to look for hidden documents. She'd seen courtesans at the Moulin Rouge tuck bills in inconspicuous places and conceal diamonds in the last place you'd look for them. She remembered what Harold had told her a few years ago when she'd been involved in a bit of a daring escapade with a customer. Satine shook her head at the memory.  
  
See, chickpea, the key is to look in the most obvious places. Really intelligent people don't use hidey-holes. They slip their valuables in places that you'd automatically dismiss.  
  
Satine went straight to Peter's desk. As she would have expected, it was neat, ostensibly with nothing to hide.   
  
Let's see. . . she murmured to herself, ruffling through the documents. Financial details. . .no, nothing here. Satine nimbly sorted through the files. As she sorted the papers, a thick packet fell out and she sucked her breath in.   
  
What have we here? she whispered, ignoring the benign label of and looking through the thick sheaf of papers. Ah. . .here we are. True to form, Peter had painstakingly documented every shady transaction, every change. All right, Satine said lightly, pushing away from the desk. One thing down, a thousand to go.   
  
What are you doing in here? Satine felt a swift stab of worry as she heard William's voice. She turned slowly, her hands extended as she saw her brother-in-law standing in the door.   
  
Now, William, she began carefully, watching the man's face.   
  
Did you find them? William asked curtly, moving towards her. Satine raised an eyebrow.  
  
You knew?   
  
William shrugged casually, but Satine could tell how hard this was for him. His lips were tightly pressed together, and his face was pale. I overheard Peter talking with his friends a few times, and I am a bit more astute than what is commonly believed. He shook his head. You found them, though. I'm impressed.   
  
I had experience. William eyed her carefully, as if trying to discern her real identity by study.   
  
Who are you, really? he asked slowly.   
  
A courtesan, Satine said bluntly. A former courtesan, she amended, watching the man through narrowed eyes. From the Moulin Rouge. William snorted faintly.  
  
Father was right, he said dryly. Well, who could have guessed?  
  
Satine said. I don't know how.   
  
He has ways and means, William said absently, watching her. Blackmail? Sounds like my brother. Dear boy that he is. Satine nodded ruefully.   
  
This game is real, Satine grimly agreed. I know. Believe me, though, when I say I've been through worse.   
  
Somehow I believe you, William said, a small flicker of sympathy passing over his expression. But still, you can't stay here. It's not safe. When is Christian expected back?   
  
Two days from now, Satine said. William shook his head.   
  
You'll have to leave this house, he said after a brief moment of silence. Peter will be gone in about an hour. Can you be packed by then?   
  
Can you take care of this alone? Satine asked bluntly.   
  
It'll be a pitched battle. Not one that you'd want to be caught in the middle of.   
  
I don't think I have a choice. William took one look at her defiant stance and sighed deeply.   
  
All right, he said, rising and opening the door for her. Let's see what Father has to say about this.   
  
An hour later, Satine and William sat in Jonathan Everett's study with him. The older man's face was ashen as he rifled through the documents.   
  
This can't be, he said finally, his voice shaking. I can't believe that Peter would--   
  
But he has, Father, William said gently. He told Satine herself. He's got an elaborate plan to get most of Christian's inheritance.   
  
He thinks that he can trap me by disparaging my name, Satine added scornfully, tossing her hair back. He's falsified documents suggesting that I'm a can-can dancer from the Moulin Rouge. I thought he'd have a bit more imagination than that-- I would have expected something against my family. William looked over at her and felt a new-found respect his sister-in-law's abilities. She was a courageous actress, tossing off lie after lie in an effort to salvage everything Christian had wanted. Evidently his father was swallowing every statement Satine told him, and William let out an uneasy sigh of relief.   
  
I suppose I would believe Christian would have gone to the Moulin Rouge, Jonathan Everett muttered, looking at a particularly well done piece of fraud. I should have had more faith in the boy. But I never even dreamed that Peter would do something like this. But the evidence. . . He buried his face in his hands and Satine rose and gently touched his shoulder.   
  
It'll be all right, Father Everett. He looked up at her, smiled slowly, and patted her hand.   
  
You're a good girl, Satine. Maybe you can knock some sense into my son's head. Satine smiled a little at that statement.   
  
Oh, I think life can do that for me. William cleared his throat and Satine raised her eyebrow at him.   
  
All right, William, she said lightly. What do you suggest we do with Peter? William began to pace while Mr. Everett and Satine watched him bemusedly.   
  
I think Peter should be sent away to America, he said finally. He's clearly dangerous-- been making lies up about Satine, threatening her, trying to ruin us all. You'll have to send him without letting him know, Father, and then--  
  
I am going to disinherit him for this, his father said snappishly. I'll take Peter out and put Christian back in.   
  
That's your decision, Father, William said deferentially. And I'm sure Christian will give us all the financial support we need.   
  
He'll be more than happy to do so, Satine added helpfully. Mr. Everett grunted.   
  
All right, all right. I see what I'm to do. Now, out of my study, the two of you. Satine bent to kiss the old man's cheek and he smiled unwillingly.   
  
Very well, very well, now be off with you.   
  
Outside, Satine let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding.   
  
she said. Now the only thing left to do--  
  
The only thing for you and Christian to do, William said firmly. Is to go home.   
  
~-~-~   
Author's Note: A thousand thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Please keep doing it--;)--I appreciate it more than even Christian could say. The characters are the respective properties of their owners, and most are used without permission, but with incredible love and respect.   
  



	12. Homecoming

Chapter XII: Homecoming  
  
Home at last! Satine exclaimed as she ran up to the front door. Christian lagged behind her with the luggage, watching her with a wide smile on his face. It had taken a little persuasion on Satine and William's parts to get him back here. When Satine had told him about Peter, she'd been truly afraid that Christian was going to run out to the harbor where Peter was departing and call him out then and there. Luckily, she'd anticipated that and told her husband only after Peter's boat was safely afloat in the frigid Atlantic waters. But they were home now. Home. Satine rolled the thought around in her mind, enjoying the sweetness of it.   
  
Come on in, Christian laughed, his hand resting on her waist. Satine laughed and threw both of her arms about him. He tightened his grip, realizing afresh how close he had come to losing her so many times. He kissed her forehead lightly and they walked hand in hand up to their home.   
  
Anne and the cook were waiting to meet them along with the new servant. Satine smiled happily at them as the young man--Henry--took the bags. Anne dropped a curtsy as Christian deposited his hat and coat.   
  
I'm very glad you're back, Madam.   
  
And I'm glad to be back, Satine said warmly, drawing off her gloves and hat. A light supper tonight, please? she said to the cook, who looked relieved at the prospect. Something nice and French, she added, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.   
  
Tired of English food? Christian asked amusedly. Satine let out a puff of exasperated breath and nodded.   
  
It's so heavy! she mockingly wailed. It will ruin my figure! Christian snorted and Satine frowned at him.   
  
he asked innocently as she flounced off to the bedroom to unpack. What did I say?   
  
Later that night, they both sat in the study. Satine was reading while Christian wrote on his typewriter. It reminded her of those days back in Montmartre. She smiled faintly and turned the page of her book. Christian sighed and turned away from the typewriter.   
  
That's it, he announced to no one in particular. Enough for tonight.   
  
Writer's block? Satine asked without looking up from her novel.   
  
No, I'm just tired, Christian replied, coming to sit down by her. What are you reading?  
  
_Sense and Sensibility_ by Jane Austen, Satine said absently. Margaret recommended all her books to me, and they really are quite good. This one isn't as sparkling and clever as _Pride and Prejudice, _but I prefer Marianne to Elizabeth. Does she marry Brandon?   
  
I'm not going to tell you, Christian teased her. You're just going to have to get to the end on your own.   
  
You don't remember, Satine said knowingly.   
  
I do so! Christian cried.   
  
Do not.   
  
Do so!   
  
Do not.   
  
Do so.   
  
All right, then, what's the name of Elinor's suitor? Christian raised his eyes up to the ceiling and refused to deign to answer.   
  
Satine said triumphantly. You don't remember. Christian began to tickle her and she swatted at his shoulder with the book.   
  
she cried between between giggles. Everett! You. Stop. Christian! she fell off the chaise with a thud. This minute! she laughed, trying to attack him back.   
  
Some time later, Christian poked her head out of the study. It's safe, he announced, after peering down the hall in both directions.   
  
Wouldn't it be safer to just get all the way dressed again? Satine grumbled as she unsuccessfully tried to hold her half-tied corset together and carry her clothes at the same time.   
  
And to go to all the trouble of undressing again? Christian asked as he ran down the hall, followed by a beleaguered Satine.   
  
Oh, no you don't, Satine said in, trying to balance her shoes and petticoat. I am going to finish this book tonight. I want to see who Marianne marries. She ran panting into the room and threw her bundle down on the bed.   
  
Christian suggested, picking up Satine's dress and stowing it over her screen.   
  
I did, Satine said matter-of-factly as she checked the lock on the door. But I'm not Marianne, as you should remember.   
  
Uh huh, Christian replied, now examining her corset. Satine, I really don't understand the principle of this--thing. Your figure is beautiful already, dear. Satine sighed.   
  
Help me out of this, will you? As Christian cheerfully complied, Satine threw a frown back at him.   
  
How is it that you can undo one of these in record time, but you cannot tie one up to save your soul?   
  
Christian said blithely. I'm good at subtraction, but I'm horrible at addition. Satine rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at her husband. He ducked and handed her her dressing gown.   
  
she said, giving him the book. Make yourself useful.   
  
That's what I thought I was doing, he said, looking wounded.   
  
No, you weren't. You were just hoping to get lucky twice in a row.   
  
Was not.   
  
Yes, you were. Don't even bother arguing, you're going to lose. Christian opened his mouth, thought better of it, and closed it again. Yes, dear. Satine smiled at him.   
  
Now what am I supposed to do with this? he asked, turning the novel over in his hands.   
  
Read it to me, silly. Christian obliged, and began to read. As he finished the last page of the book, Satine let out a soft sigh of contentment and closed her eyes.   
  
Christian kissed her eyelids softly and she smiled sleepily.   
  
Good night, Christian.   
  
Good night, Satine.   
  
It's wonderful to be home again, isn't it, darling? Satine said as she drifted off into sleep. Christian settled back down into the pillows.   
  
he said as he blew the lamp out, plunging the room into darkness. It is.   
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: Same old ownership. I love every single person who's reviewed me! :)  
  



	13. Autumn Grace

Chapter XIII: Autumn Grace  
  
Satine called impatiently to her husband a few months later. It's here! Christian! It's here! Upstairs, Christian threw down his tie and plunged down the stairs at a dizzying speed. Anne gasped and ducked into the pantry as he sprinted by her with his top two buttons of his shirt undone and his hair uncombed.   
  
It's here? he demanded as he skidded into the kitchen. Satine held out a thick brown parcel with a smile.   
  
Right here. Straight from the publishing house. Christian let out an soft scream and torn the paper off, revealing two new copies of his book.   
  
The Greatest Thing, he read proudly, holding up the shining book to the rich fall sunlight. Satine grabbed the second copy and opened it to the reviews.   
  
What seems to be a simple love story between a penniless poet and the woman he loves is much deeper. M. Everett's beautiful prose and wonderful sense of story has given this little book all the wealth the literary world could possess. When Juliette, the young, poor girl who's dream of being an actress seems to the verge of realization, we can't help but to understand her plight, even if we've never thought of being on stage. We pray that she and her true love will be together by the end of the novel, and we sigh with happiness when her wealthy suitor is rejected. M. Everett's Bohemian ideals appeal to the naiveté of the soul, and satisfy it to the fullest extent. Satine smiled up at Christian. In other words, you did it, darling. Christian dropped the book and picked her up, spinning her around the room. Satine laughed joyously as he lowered her to the ground, touching his forehead to hers.   
  
No, you did it, Satine, Christian said. You were my muse. Satine only smiled up into his eyes. He lifted her back up and wrapped his arms around her slender waist.   
  
_And you can tell everybody  
This is your song.  
  
_He sang the words softly, reminding Satine of their first meeting in the elephant, so long ago. He picked up the book and opened it to the dedication page.   
  
_It may be quite simple, but  
Now that it's done. . .   
  
_He handed her the book, and she took it with wonder. To Satine, she read, amazed that Christian had done this for her. This is your song.   
  
_I hope you don't mind,  
I hope you don't mind  
That I put down in words. . .  
How wonderful life is  
Now you're in the world.   
  
_Oh, Christian, Satine whispered. He bent his head and kissed her, slowly at first, but then she drew him closer.   
  
With the money from Christian's aunt and the profits from his book, they lived comfortably, and Satine found herself delighting in every small joy life had to offer her. They took long walks together in the midst of autumn. The French countryside was beautiful, and the glorious symphony of crimson, orange, purple, and gold that the leaves played provided the perfect background for their strolls.   
  
Satine asked as they walked hand in hand alongside a sparkling brook.   
  
  
  
Is this what heaven will be like? Christian did not answer at first, but instead just held her hand a little tighter.  
  
I don't know, he said after a moment of silence. I suppose it'll be more beautiful than anything on earth.   
  
I don't see how it could be, Satine said seriously, tugging a little on his hand to stop for a brief time. Christian turned and looked at her. She was wearing a light beige suit that brought out the creamy tones of her skin. She had long since taken off her hat and was carrying it at her side, and her red-gold hair gleamed like mahogany in the light. He raised her hand and placed a light kiss on it.   
  
I don't know what I did to deserve this, he said quietly. Something wonderful, I think. Satine only lowered her dusky eyelashes onto her cheek, and smiled very sweetly.   
  
Didn't you say there's a waterfall up ahead? she asked a few moments later. I want to see it.   
  
Have you ever seen a waterfall before? Christian asked curiously as they continued on.   
  
Satine admitted. I've seen pictures in books, though. Well, there aren't just a lot of waterfalls in Montmarte, she said a trifle defensively. Although Harold did think about putting one into the Moulin Rouge once.   
  
Christian said, plainly puzzled by the thought, Would he do that? Satine shrugged.   
  
I don't know. He did think about it, though. I think he wanted us to all be mermaids or something like that. Christian unsuccessfully tried to hold back his laughter and Satine elbowed him in his side.   
  
When did you see a waterfall, then?   
  
Uh. . . Christian said sheepishly. In a book. He and Satine looked at each other for a few seconds and then simultaneously burst out laughing.   
  
Oh, dear, Satine said, wiping away a mirthful tear.   
  
Christian said, his hand resting on her arm. There it is. The huge cascade of water glittered and plunged down to the river below. Satine let out a tiny gasp of delight.   
  
How beautiful. . . she breathed. The rushing sound of water filled her ears and she turned to Christian in delight. I never dreamed things like this existed in the world, she said, climbing up on the rocks to get a better view. Tiny rivulets of waters streamed down the mossy stones, and the cool spray enveloped them both as they wandered closer to the waterfall. Christian tightened his grip on her waist.   
  
I love you, Satine.   
  
And I you, she replied, turning to look at him. They stood there, together, for a few minutes, and then Satine stirred.   
  
We'd better start back to the house, she said, gently breaking away from him.   
  
I'll race you, Christian grinned. Satine's mouth opened wide.   
  
Not in these shoes! Christian's only response was to stick his tongue out at her as he sprinted off.  
  
Satine warned. With a determined grin on her face, she pulled off her shoes and stockings, hitched her skirt up to an indecent level, and took off after her husband.   
  
Needless to say, neither of them won the race.  
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: STILL! I own nothing. Please don't sue me. Love all the lovely reviews I've gotten. Thank you so much. :)  
  
Songs used:  
Your Song--Elton John, but we all know Christian sings it best, right?  



	14. It's Christmas Eve

Chapter XIV: It's Christmas Eve  
  
_Un flambeau, Jeanette Isabelle  
Un flambeau, courons au berceau!  
C'est Jesus, bons gens du hameau,  
Le Christ est ne, Marie appelle,  
Ah! Ah! Ah! que la mere est belle,  
Ah! Ah! Ah! que l'Enfant est beau!  
  
_Now in English, dear, Christian called from the parlor. Satine poked her head around the door and frowned at him.   
  
she began. Her husband only grinned and held out both hands.   
  
A joke, darling. How's the hall coming?   
  
Well enough, Satine said absently, returning to her holly and evergreen. I think the white satin adds a lovely touch. What about the tree?   
  
I'm almost done with the branches, and then we can decorate it, Christian said, standing back and wiping his hands on his coat.   
  
Oh, lovely, Satine said, disregarding her last boughs of holly and coming to standing next to him. Christian slipped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly. Satine smiled warmly and leaned her head against his shoulder.   
  
she said again, looking around at their small but beautiful home, smelling the delicious spices of Christmas baking, and feeling Christian's arms around her.   
  
Yes, you are, Christian said. Satine twisted in his arms to look up at him, and he kissed her forehead.   
  
Let's go ice skating this afternoon, Satine suggested after a moment. We bought the skates nearly a month ago and haven't used them once.   
  
That sounds wonderful, Christian agreed, reluctantly releasing her and turning back to the tree. Who do you think is the better skater of us two? Satine only laughed on her way out. She'd never been skating before, but she was certain that it couldn't be hard after dancing in corsets and heels. . .   
  
Oof! Christian! It's not funny! Satine scrambled up to her feet with the help of a nearby tree branch. Christian managed to hide his smile long enough to get her steady on her feet again, and then broke out laughing.   
  
Satine warned him. She rested her hands on her hips and glared his chuckle away.   
  
Yes, dear? he said meekly. Satine raised an expressive eyebrow.   
  
Got it, Christian said hastily, taking her hand. All right, just put one foot down. . .now the next. You need to glide and bend your knees. . .oh, there you go. All right, next foot. . . Satine wobbled furiously, clinging to Christian's hand in an effort to keep herself upright. With his precarious help, she managed to glide/tip-toe around the pond once.   
  
That's enough, Satine began, already heading for the comfort of the secure ground. Christian grabbed her waist and pulled her back.   
  
No, no, it's fun, Satine. Just try it with me a few more times and then you'll get it, I promise. Satine sighed deeply, but one look at Christian's eager face convinced her to try it again.   
  
You see! Christian said victoriously. You've got it! Satine hesitantly broke away from Christian and took a hesitant step. When she succeeded, she looked up at him with a wide smile.   
  
An hour later found Satine sailing gracefully around the pond, much to the envy of the three other women who sat on the benches watching their husbands skate. Christian was cheerfully racing in a dizzying circles, his scarf flying and his black hair landing at a rakish angle on his forehead. He sped by her and spun to a stop.   
  
Ready to go home, Satine? he asked. My feet feel like they're going to fall off. Satine looked at him, surprised.   
  
Mine feel fine. But if you're going to be silly about it-- she teased him, gliding over to the edge.   
  
I will, thank you, Christian said firmly. Just because you have magic ankles doesn't mean I'm so gifted.   
  
As soon as Satine removed her skates, she let out a gasp of surprise. The strength in her feet seemed to have magically dissolved.   
  
Christian said smugly. Told you.   
  
Oh, hush, Satine complained, leaning heavily on his arm. I know, I know, you are the all-mighty paragon of wisdom. Just then, Christian's ankles gave out and he stumbled, falling face first in the snow. Satine gave a very unladylike snort and shook her head at him.   
  
Then again, Christian said that night as he sat in a foot bath of warm water and Satine was very competently walking around, radiating a studied air of triumph. Perhaps there are a very few things that you can best me in.   
  
Satine only response was to snort again.   
  
It's Christmas Eve! Satine sat straight up in bed, while Christian mumbled something and turned over in his sleep. Satine shook her head at him and slid out of the sheets and into her dressing gown. Frost had painted a delicate motif onto the large window of their room, and the soft blanket of snow that covered their sleeping garden gave the entire land a peaceful and undisturbed look. Satine's mouth curved up into a contented smile. A beautiful home--a wonderful husband-- a real life-- there was only one thing missing. Or, rather, one tiny person that Satine longed to hold in her arms. Satine had always counted herself lucky before. At the Moulin Rouge, there were nights when you just didn't take customers. That technique was notorious for being defective, though, as Nini had discovered three times before. Satine shivered and banished that memory. But now. . . every month, the urge to hold her own child tugged harder, and those lingering doubts in the back of her mind grew stronger.   
  
Her worries vanished as Christian sat bolt upright in bed and looked at her.   
  
It's Christmas Eve! Satine began to giggle at that, leaving a very confused Christian and a very good start to their Christmas.   
  
To a beautiful holiday! Christian toasted her at dinner.   
  
And to champagne! Satine added, just a little tipsy after her first drink in quite a while.   
  
And to champagne, Christian agreed, taking another sip of the bubbly drink. Satine sat her glass down with a brief sigh. Much more of that and she'd be on the road to being drunk. It was really strange how going without it made it have a bigger effect on her. She suppressed another giggle as she thought of the other things in her life she could do that with. As she looked over at Christian, her laugh exploded out.   
  
Christian said curiously. Satine only shook her head and laughed harder. Satine waved a hand at him.   
  
Never mind. You wouldn't like it.   
  
Like what?   
  
Satine giggled again. Christian stared at her for a few moments, shook his head, and rose from the table.   
  
If I give you your early present now, will you tell me?  
  
No, but I'll give you your gift, Satine cheerfully responded. Christian pretended to pout for a moment, but finally nodded. Satine pulled out a small package and felt a small touch of anxiety. Would he like it? Would he understand the meaning behind it?   
  
Christian found the small box and swallowed against the lump in his throat. Would she really like it? He bitterly remembered the huge, glittering diamond necklace the Duke had bestowed upon her nearly a year ago. Would his gift seem poor in comparison?   
  
he said quickly, handing her the box. You first. Satine smiled up at him, the soft glow of the candlelight illuminating the beautiful curves of her face and the auburn ripples of her hair. She took the gift from him, turned it over, and opened it. She drew in a sharp intake of breath.   
  
Oh, Christian. . . she breathed. Christian felt his heart sink.   
  
Do you not like it? I'm so sorry, I think, I mean, I can probably--  
  
Satine said, reaching over and caressing his hand. It's beautiful. It's the most beautiful thing I've ever been given. Inside the satin-lined box was a beautiful strand of rosy pearls. Satine reached out with a hesitant finger and touched one.   
  
Do you really like it? Christian was watching her as anxiously as a son might watch his mother while opening a gift. Satine laughed happily.   
  
Oh, of course I do. They're so lovely. . . Christian relaxed and smiled at her.   
  
I was going to get you diamonds . . .but, well, you know. I saw this and I thought. . .   
  
I'm glad you did, Satine said softly. They sat there for a few moments and Satine reached for her package.   
  
It's quite different from what you gave me. . .but, well, there it is, she said a little nervously. Christian opened the box and lifted out the small, leather-bound journal that rested within.   
  
Look inside, Satine said, impatiently waiting for the verdict. Christian began reading some of the pages and then, suddenly, his expression changed. Satine had written down the entire history of their meeting, their love-affair at the Moulin Rouge, their marriage-- all from her eyes.   
  
he whispered, instantly going to her and kissing her. It's--it's perfect. Satine smiled in relief and wrapped her arms about him.   
  
I love you, she said, looking into his sweet blue eyes that had captured her heart with their earnest pleading. Christian drew her closer.   
  
I love you, too. . .   
  
Later that night, the snow had begun to fall again and Satine and Christian went to the parlor to sit before the fire and to admire their handiwork on the tree.   
  
Very nice, Satine said approvingly as she fingered a branch.   
  
I think so too, Christian agreed, with a meaningful look that suggested he wasn't talking about the tree.   
  
You hush, Satine said demurely. I wasn't talking about that.   
  
I was.   
  
  
  
You have a beautiful soul, Satine, he said suddenly. Satine raised an eyebrow. Where had that come from? As if anticipating her question, Christian spoke again.   
  
I mean, your face is beautiful, but so is Nini's. And yet, you are so much more beautiful than she could ever be because of who you are. Satine felt herself blushing and she sank down into the armchair.   
  
Such a poet, she said, smiling into his eyes.   
  
With a muse unlike anyone else's. He leaned forward and kissed her.   
  
What would the servants think? Satine scolded him a moment later.   
  
If they were here, you mean?   
  
Well, yes, Satine said, teasing him with a grin. Christian suddenly rose to his feet and lifted her up and began to dance her around the room.   
  
_Snow falling gently to the ground  
Tis the night before  
And in my heart there is no doubt  
That this is gonna be the brightest holiday  
Cause you are here with me  
Baby, baby, I can't wait  
To spend this special time of year with someone who  
Makes me feel the special way you do.   
  
_Satine laughed happily as they began to swing back and forth in a sort of dance she'd never done before. Christian spun her around rapidly and then dipped her back. Satine winked at her husband.  
  
All right, I think I know what you're doing. Let me try now.   
  
_Walking with you in a winter's snow  
Kissing underneath the mistletoe  
People smiling everywhere we go  
It's Christmas Eve and you can see we're in love.   
  
_Christian saw the candles shining in Satine's eyes and danced with her around the table as he sang the next verse. _  
  
Oh, you make the season bright  
With the lights reflecting in your eyes  
All my dreams are coming true tonight  
It's Christmas Eve and I can see we're in love.   
  
_They stopped dancing long enough to hold hands as Satine sang.   
  
_And bells are ringing when I hear you say  
We'll do it all again on Christmas Day  
I can't wait!  
  
_They were both laughing as they danced their way to the bedroom to spend Christmas Eve together, secure in their home and their love for each other, for the first time in both of their lives.   
_  
Oh, you make the season bright  
With the lights reflecting in your eyes  
All my dreams are coming true tonight  
It's Christmas Eve and I can see we're in love!   
  
_~-~-~  
Author's note: Reviewers RULE! Love ya all. :)  
Songs used:  
Bring a Torch, Jeanette Isabelle--Traditional French Christmas carol  
Christmas Eve--Celine Dion


	15. The Price of Love

Chapter XV: The Price of Love  
  
The bright golden wave of the poppies spilled over the faded brick of the raised beds and onto the velvety grass. The entire garden was filled with perfumes, each scent a little different from the last. Christian's roses blushed pink and red and white along the trellis, and the trees provided small sanctuaries of shade to the weary traveler. Satine was sitting outside underneath the willow, ostensibly reading while Christian talked with Henry about what needed to be done to the grass. However, her book had fallen to the ground and she was staring off into the large, soft white clouds that drifted over the sky.   
  
Satine frowned and gently touched her slim waist-- too slim. It had been over a year now, and she was beginning to feel more than a slight uneasiness about her failure to bear a child. With all the signs of new life around her, she felt more alone than ever. Christian had never brought the subject up with her, but she knew that he felt the lack of it as much as she did. She hadn't missed the quiet longing in his eyes when watching the Sunday School class play after church. He would make a wonderful father, she thought wistfully. Even if he didn't realize the source of his unhappiness, he soon would. . .and what would that do to their marriage?   
  
Christian waved at her, momentarily breaking her reverie. Satine mustered a cheerful smile and waved back, but her smile faded as he walked out of sight. She had made an appointment with the doctor for later this afternoon. Perhaps he could tell her something-- anything she could do. Satine rose and picked up her neglected book. He had to help her. He just had to.   
  
Christian watched Satine stride into the house and sighed. He nodded goodbye at Henry and began slowly pacing between the rows of roses. Something was wrong with Satine. He knew she wasn't sleeping well, for one thing. Twice now he had awakened to find her staring out the window, an empty look in her eyes. When he tried to comfort her, she pulled away from him. What was wrong? Was it something he had done? Christian's brow creased as he tried to think of all the moments he had spent with Satine in the past few weeks. She hadn't seemed angry at him. . .indeed, if judging by their physical relationship, everything would be perfect.   
  
Not totally perfect, Christian amended to himself. While Satine was eager to go to bed nearly every night, she rarely kissed him on the lips, instead preferring to arouse him, almost as if he were a customer and her real love lay elsewhere--   
  
Christian said aloud, slamming his hand down against the wall of the shed. It couldn't be. Satine would never be unfaithful to him. Ever. But for the thought to even enter his mind. . . She didn't confide in him any longer. It was almost as if. . .  
  
Oh, be reasonable, he said to himself. When would she have been able to be unfaithful? You always know where she is if she's not with you. And with that, his fear subsided. Just a temporary loss of sense, he thought. Even so. . . the thought had entered his mind. Something was very wrong.   
  
Madam Everett, the doctor rose and greeted her. How is your husband, Madam?   
  
Satine said briefly as she took off her hat. How is your family, doctor?   
  
Well, thank you, the doctor said, opening the door to his office. Won't you come in, Madam?  
  
Over a year, then? the doctor said slowly as Satine stared down at her hands.  
  
she said softly, her cheeks flushing. That's not-- normal, is it? The doctor's lips tightened and he sighed.   
  
Forgive the question, Madam, but your, er, conjugal relations are fairly regular, I assume?   
  
The doctor sighed again.   
  
he began gently. Do you remember last year when I asked about any side effects of the medication and the disease? Satine gripped the arms of her chair until her knuckles went white.   
  
You can't mean?   
  
It's possible, Madam. Very. . . his voice trailed off as he saw Satine's stricken face. Very likely, even.   
  
That can't be it, Satine said desperately. There must be something else, something physically wrong with me that can fixed this-- this can't be it!   
  
I can examine you, Madam, the doctor said gently. But I really don't think that would be beneficial.   
  
I don't care, Satine said quietly. Just try, please. He took one look at her set face and sighed deeply.   
  
All right, Madam.   
  
An hour later, the doctor re-emerged from his washroom and looked into Satine's eyes.   
  
she demanded. He lowered his head.  
  
Nothing I can do, Madam. Nothing I can do. He touched her hand sympathetically. I'm sorry, Madam. I'll leave you now.   
  
Satine didn't know how long she sat in the doctor's office. Tears silently streamed down her face as the bright light faded away into the ominous red illumination that poured in dusty shafts from the windows. Shadows passed by the door and hesitated before moving on, leaving her to her misery  
_  
When this all began. . .  
I knew there'd be a price. . .  
  
_Satine shuddered as she looked at the photographs of the doctor's family that lay scattered around the room. Children, a boy and a girl, smiling, laughing. Satine saw all her hopes slide away from her and crumble into dust. Christian would grow tired of her. She had thought that after all they'd been through together, the Duke, Christian's father, Peter, her own countless losses of faith, her fears, that she would finally be rewarded with a happy life. Once again, she had been a fool. What was wrong with her? Why did she keep succumbing to these ideals that she knew didn't hold true in the world?   
  
At home, Christian frowned and folded his arms. Dinner had been set half an hour ago and the food had long since cooled. Where _was_ she?   
  
_Once upon a dream,  
I was lost in love's embrace  
There I found a perfect place,  
Once upon a dream.  
  
_Satine wandered over to the mantelpiece and leaned against it. She smiled sadly as she remembered the happy nights spent in Christian's garret, the stolen kisses and the nights of such tenderness and joy.   
  
_Once there was a time  
Like no other time before  
Hope was still an open door  
Once upon a dream.  
And I was unafraid  
The dream was so exciting,  
But now I see it fade  
And I am here alone. . .  
  
_ Satine reached her hand out, as if to halt the reality of the moment. She closed her eyes briefly, hoping that she would awake to find herself in Christian's arms, with all of her grief gone. When she returned sight to her eyes, she broke down and let out her first audible sob. The sun had completely vanished into the wake of twilight.   
  
_When this all began. . .  
I knew there'd be a price. . .   
_  
~-~-  
Author's Note: I don't own anything. . .although if Christian ever becomes public domain, what glories will result! Wait, I do own the nameless doctor. And the story is all mine. MINE, do you hear me? Mine! (Sorry, I've been left to the company of myself for a little too long) All reviewers go to heaven, cause you people are the best. All flamers join their fellows in another place. : Bad DP! Is hyper and sick and dosed up on legal, over-the-counter-drugs!  
  
Songs used:  
Once Upon a Dream--Jekyll and Hyde (If you are one of the absolutely wonderful people following this story, you may have noticed that a ton of songs come from this musical. Why? Because a) I love it b)there are tons of beautiful love/sad songs and c)one of the main characters is a prostitute. Gold mine of songs and it's a great show. Ah! Go see it. You'll love it as well!) 


	16. Ashes for Dreams

Chapter XVI: Ashes for Dreams  
  
Satine hurried into the dark house, silently thanking whatever gods there might be that she didn't encounter any of the servants. Her face hadn't seemed too swollen when she had taken a glance at herself in the mirror in the doctor's house, but she didn't want to answer any questions right now. She peered into the study. It seemed empty and silent, and Satine slipped into it with a  
grateful sigh. Right now she didn't want to see anyone. She just wanted to sit in the dark and be alone.   
  
A cold beam of moonlight illuminated Satine as she sat down on the window-seat. The light in the room was all ghostly green and blue. Satine leaned her head against the cool glass and let herself sink back into the destructive haze of pain. She was not to stay there long, however.   
  
Christian was sitting in a small nook at the other end of the room. For a few minutes after Satine's entrance, he sat silently, unwilling to reveal his presence. But soon the tension grew too strong for him to just wait it out.   
  
Where have you been? he asked evenly, turning on the gas lamp as he rose. Satine gasped and turned to him.  
  
Christian! How long have you been there?  
  
Where have you been? Christian asked again, a steely note underlying his words. Satine opened her mouth to confess all, but then she paused. Why should Christian care? He had the whore from the Moulin Rouge. He could walk away at any time, and no one would blame him. Satine's twisted thoughts seemed perfectly rational from inside her blur of anguish.   
  
Does it really matter, Christian? she asked wearily, rising from her seat to go stand by him. Christian's jaw tightened.   
  
What's going on, Satine?   
  
Satine said icily.   
  
Why won't you tell me what's going on? Christian tried again to soothe the feelings that were torturing him, but the ugliness reared up again in spite of his best efforts. He remembered this-- the stabbing pains of jealousy that he knew all too well. The past weeks of coldness, of brushing him off, of refusing to look into his eyes or kiss his lips culminated in the quiet rage he now  
felt.   
  
There's nothing to tell, Christian. Christian grabbed her wrist tightly and pulled her to face him. Satine's eyes narrowed.   
  
Let me go! Christian! She pounded her fist against his chest in vain. Christian was still stronger than her, and held her tightly.   
  
Satine, please, tell me what's going on! Satine jerked back away from him, anger smoldering in her eyes.   
  
Why do you want to know, Christian? You're just like the rest of them anyway! she cried. Until their dying days, neither Satine nor Christian would ever forgive themselves for what they both said and did this night, but judgment is always far more potent in hindsight. Christian went pale and dropped her wrist.   
  
  
  
Men grow cold as girls grow old, Satine said cruelly, ignoring her screaming conscience. You pretend better then the rest, Christian, that's all. It's just lust and infatuation, anyway. The courtesan was a fool to choose the penniless--   
  
She didn't get any further than that. Christian's hand swung out and slapped her across the cheek. Her hand rose involuntarily to her stinging face. Oh, it wasn't really physically painful--even in his angriest moments, Christian couldn't really hurt her--but the ache in her heart. . . They stared at each other for a long moment. Christian's face was ashen from the realization of what he had done, and Satine's chest was heaving with sobs. After what seemed like forever, Christian almost reached out to touch her, but then drew his hand back.   
  
I'm sorry, he whispered. He walked past her to the door. Satine didn't move to stop him, so complete was her shock. She dropped to her knees, crying bitterly.   
  
Christian strode to their room, his mental tumult too painful for him to even begin to understand. Quickly he bundled some of his personal possessions in his arms and headed back to wait outside the study. He only had to stay in the hall for a few minutes before Satine emerged, her hair falling down, her satin skin stained by the tears. He shrank back into the shadows until she passed, and then he went into the study and locked the door. Christian drew in a slow, painful breath as tears appeared in his eyes.   
  
Satine, please he choked out. Please forgive me. . .please. . .   
  
Satine hesitantly pushed the door to their bedroom open.   
  
she called softly. She was answered only by silence. Satine looked into the wardrobe and felt a fresh onslaught of pain. His nightclothes were gone.   
  
Satine sobbed into her pillow that night. Christian. . .  
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: Hey! Where did all the angst come from? Hee hee. . . am slightly drunk. Or something.  
  
Baz owns Moulin Rouge. Nice man who hopefully has the intelligence of seeing the futility of suing a poor high school senior, especially one who has v. little money in her bank account.   
  
I has a question. This story has about five or six chapters left in it and I have several ideas for new fics. I hope to write them all, but ya never know. Which would you enjoy reading more, a sort of prequel to this about Satine's past, OR a darker, alt. ending fic that looks as if it's going to be angsty? Public response will dictate what comes from DP's pen next. :D


	17. Two Departures, Two Destinations

Chapter XVII: Two Departures, Two Destinations  
  
The next two weeks passed by slowly and painfully. Christian slept and lived in the study, too ashamed of what he had done to return to his wife. Every time, he lay uncomfortably in his makeshift bed, trying to work up to the courage to go talk to Satine. He had no idea that she was pacing in their room, wrestling with the same idea. Their conversation was stiff and formal and cast a heavy net of strain over everyone in the house. Meals were particularly hard. Satine and Christian sat at opposite ends of the table with their eyes fixed more on their food than on each other. Silence was the general rule of conversation.   
  
After one such breakfast, Satine hurried out of the dining room on the verge of tears. She let out a ragged breath and turned in agitation to the window of the parlor. A tentative knock on the door didn't even give her the slightest hope that it was Christian. "Come in, Anne," she called. It was ironic-- with the amount of time she spent talking to her maid now, she could recognize her very knock, while her husband-- Satine shook her head abruptly. Anne entered, her ready smile a little hesitant now.   
  
"Monsieur Everett is in his study, Madam, and he asked not be disturbed, so I thought I'd bring this to you." Anne extended a letter which Satine took with a disinterested look.   
"Thank you," she said softly as the girl curtsied and left the room. She turned the envelope over, recognizing Christian's father's handwriting. Satine peered in the mirror to check her appearance, then walked purposefully to the study, glad for a reason to interrupt Christian.   
  
For his part, Christian was doing little more than sitting and staring off into space. He was unshaven and his face was drawn. Despite having told the servants about his peace, he was unaccountably thankful for the knock on the door.   
  
"Come in," he called, assuming it to be Henry or the maid. Instead Satine entered holding a letter. Christian automatically stood.   
  
"Hello," he said. He swallowed against a lump in his throat.   
  
Satine's heart sank at his greeting and she nervously touched her hair.   
  
"Hello," she replied, careful to not let a single note of emotion enter her voice. "This-- this is for you." Christian didn't move.   
  
"Who's it from?" Satine's eyes briefly flashed at him, but her expression stayed the same.   
  
"I don't know. Your father, I suppose-- that's his handwriting on the envelope."   
  
Christian's mind momentarily skipped back to their first real argument and smiled wryly at how serious he had thought that was. Satine raised an eyebrow, the letter still extended.   
"Well? Are you going to take it?"   
  
"Yes," Christian answered, jerked back to the present by her voice. "Yes. I'm-- I'm sorry. Here, uh, please sit down." Satine sat gingerly down on a chair, looking around her as Christian opened and read the letter. The room bore the marks of his presence that the bedroom was missing now. Some of his clothes were thrown over the sofa, his favorite books lay out and manuscript pages littered the table and chairs. It was more than personal possessions, though. The bedroom seemed empty now, with carefully dusted corners where Christian's things had used to lie. Satine scrupulously kept her knickknacks out of his spaces, and as a result, the room had a lonely look, as if it was waiting with Satine for Christian's return. A sudden, choked-off sound came from Christian, and Satine looked at him with alarm. He folded the letter back up and looked out the window, his face still expressionless.   
  
"What is it?" Satine finally asked after a long pause. Christian sat down across from her and handed her the letter.  
  
"Peter is dead."   
  
"I'm sorry," Satine said, not sure if those were the right words to say. She certainly wouldn't miss Peter, but he was Christian's brother. What would a little passing threat to her effect what was doubtlessly a deep and lasting relationship between brothers--  
  
"Yes, so am I. Sorry that he didn't die years ago." Satine's eyebrows shot up and she felt a small tingle of remorse at her over-active sense of tragedy. "Well," Christian continued, standing up and brushing his jacket off. "I'm to go to England now. Father commands it." Satine involuntarily stood up.  
  
"England!"   
  
"Yes. I'll pack and be gone with two hours. Can you manage without me for a fortnight or so?"   
  
Satine held back her tears and nodded. Wasn't he even going to ask her to go with him?   
  
"Yes, of course." She waited, but no invitation to accompany him came. "Goodbye, then." Christian hesitated. Could he kiss her goodbye? He gently laid a hand on her shoulder and Satine nearly gasped at his touch. She longed to throw herself into his arms, but held herself back and merely raised her white face to his. Christian kissed her quickly, and Satine involuntarily drew back. Christian felt another wave of shame come over him.   
  
"Goodbye," Satine glanced down at the little side-table and frowned at the copy of _Sense and Sensibility_ yhat rested there. She picked up the novel and looked up at Christian with no small sense of hope, but that quickly dissipated when she saw his face. "I'll see you in about a fortnight, then." Christian bravely nodded as she left.   
  
"I love you," he whispered to the empty room. "Come what may, I will love you until the end of time."  
  
A few days later, Satine was supposedly reading in the parlor, but in reality she was only playing with the pages. Her failure to have a child wasn't due to her illness. She knew that in her heart, and that was the real reason she couldn't confront Christian about it.   
  
It was because in her days as a courtesan, she'd most likely contacted something that had left her barren. Maybe she'd given it to Christian. Satine shut her eyes, remembering the days of the Moulin Rouge. . .wait. . . the Moulin Rouge. If anyone was to know about diseases of that nature, they would be at Montmartre. At Montmartre. . . at the Moulin Rouge.   
  
"And Christian isn't here," she said slowly. "If I could just find out. . .what to do. . . and things would be well again. . ." she fingered her cheek, tears welling up in here eyes as she remembered that night. The awful things she had said to him. . .   
  
"Things won't ever be the same again, will they?" she asked herself wearily. "But I have to try," she whispered fiercely. "If I don't, it's already gone. . ." Satine fumbled around her neck for the key she wore there. The bottom drawer of the parlor desk was locked, containing an emergency bundle of francs that she could use for her train fare and hotel.   
  
"Anne!" she called, finally retrieving the money. "Anne, please come in here!" The maid appeared at the door with a puzzled expression on her face.   
  
"Yes, Madam?"   
  
"I've received word that I need to go visit my family as well," Satine wildly invented on the spot. "I must leave immediately and no one-- especially my husband, Anne, must know where I've gone. It's very important. Can I trust you with this?" Anne nodded solemnly.   
  
"Yes, Madam."   
  
"Thank you," Satine said, pressing some of francs into her hand. Anne tried to refuse them, but Satine insisted, closing the girl's fingers around the money.   
  
"I know your wages go to your mother, but spend this on yourself and say it was a gift from me," Satine said hurriedly, pinning her hat on. "You deserve it," she added, smiling into the girl's face. "You've been a good friend to me, Anne."   
  
"Thank you," Anne said quietly, beaming more from the praise than from the money. She and Satine looked into the wardrobe and Satine bit her lip.   
  
"Not too much. . .I'd like to leave as soon as I can." Anne neatly folded the gowns Satine brought out, one by one. How many memories had she invested in these dresses? The blue one Christian had bought her before their marriage to replace the glittering gowns he had to sell. . . the beige walking suit, her dark green taffeta that she'd worn at Christmas. . .the ivory satin she had worn with her pearls to the opera. . . she pulled out her pink dressing gown and smiled sadly at it. It was the only thing left from the Moulin Rouge, and then she'd only worn it when with Christian in the garret.   
  
"This one as well?" Satine realized she was standing there, staring at the garment and she replaced it in the wardrobe.   
  
"No," she said softly. "This one stays here." Satine opened her jewelry box and found her pearls. "These come with me."   
  
As Satine walked out of her house, she glanced back at her beautiful home and the garden that surrounded it. Nestled among a haven of trees, the house seemed to call to her, asking her to stay. But it wasn't home. Not without Christian there.   
  
"Good luck, Madam," Anne said in a strange moment of lucidity as she signaled to the driver to bring Satine to the train station.   
  
"I think I'll need it," Satine said grimly, touching Anne's hand and smiling before climbing into the automobile. The vehicle could get her to the train station soon, and for the first time, she didn't regret Christian's extravagant purchase in the least. As the car pulled out, Satine turned and looked forward. She would return to the Moulin Rouge. . . maybe the echoes from her past could tell her the secrets of her future.   
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: STILL I own nothing. Moulin Rouge got nominated for best picture! Yay! I hope Nicole wins for best actress!   
  
Some more angst from me, but rest assured, this will end happily. Thanks for all the great reviews that everyone gave me. I appreciate it more than words can say. I'm home sick again today, so I'm hoping to finish this story and perhaps start on a new one. Thanks again! :-)   
~DP  



	18. One Final Time

Chapter XVIII: One Final Time  
  
Satine stepped off the train and looked around her. The sights, the sounds, the smells-- she was back in Paris again. It felt strangely familiar and alien at the same time. A laughing crowd pushed past her and she stared after them.   
  
Can I help you, Madam? the polite voice of a porter sounded from behind her.   
  
Satine said quickly. A cab? The man nodded and summoned a carriage for her.   
  
Will there be anything else, Madam? he asked as the carriage drew up. Satine mutely shook her head and handed him his tip. The man nodded and moved away as Satine climbed up onto the seat.   
  
Where to? the driver asked lazily. Satine drew in a deep breath.   
  
The bearded driver turned around and gave her a once-over.   
  
Are you sure, Madam? Satine hesitated and took a shaky breath. Was she sure?   
  
  
  
Satine said finally. Yes, I'm sure. The man looked surprised, but drove up to the gaping mouth that led to the underworld.   
  
Do you have someone. . .meeting you here, Madam?   
  
I'll be all right, Satine said absently, looking around. A slender prostitute loitered around the entrance to the village, and Satine bit her lower lip hard to keep herself from crying.   
  
All right, the driver said doubtfully, anxious to leave the place and yet unwilling to leave her alone. Goodbye, then, Madam.   
  
Satine took her suitcase and wandered down the dirty streets. A man in the grip of absinthe leered at her and then fell over at her feet. A group of drunken men openly eyed prostitutes beckoning customers while a young boy dashed across the street with a precious hoard of opium. Satine shivered and lifted her pale green skirt away from the mud.   
  
You look lost, my dear. Satine turned to see a red-haired man eyeing her. Need someone to help you home?   
  
Satine shook her head and and backed up.   
  
No. . . I'm fine.   
  
Come on, honey--  
  
Satine had faded into the dark recesses of an alley by the time the man spun around. She ran towards Toulouse's apartment, feeling sick at the sights before her. How could she have lived here for so long? She stopped before the Moulin Rouge. It was grey and broken-down and the windows were boarded up. Satine slowly walked towards the entrance and stood before the doors. She blew her breath out, causing dust to waft up towards her.   
  
Satine turned her head when she heard a voice behind her. She knew that voice.   
  
Baby Doll? The golden-haired woman wore a faded green gown now, and her makeup drew hard lines on her face.   
  
It is you, Baby Doll breathed. Well, I never thought I'd see the day when the sparkling jewel in the Moulin's crown returned to her tarnished setting.   
  
Satine flinched at her words and brushed past her. Baby Doll followed her, hissing angry words at the former star.   
  
Married life not all it's cracked up to be, sweetheart? Or did you decide to look up old friends you were too good for a year ago?   
  
Excuse me, Satine said sharply, slamming the door to the L'amour behind her. She ran up the stairs, tears blurring her eyes. As she passed the door that led to Christian's garret, she couldn't help pushing it open and peering inside. No one had lived in there since they had left-- the hole in the ceiling was the same. The room seemed haunted by their memories, and Satine smiled wistfully. For a moments she could almost see the two of them sitting on the bed together, laughing and talking. . .  
  
But all of that was gone now. It had vanished into a spiral of pain and confusion and hurt and--   
  
Satine gasped. The world seemed to be flying by her in a whirlwind of grey and green. She tried to focus her eyes, but the light faded and black patches danced over the apartment.   
  
she cried. The blackness grew and enveloped her, and Satine fell to the floor.  
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: Same old, same old. Please don't sue me.   
Read on! Happiness is coming soon to our beloved couple!


	19. Hold On

Chapter XIX: Hold On  
  
She's awake now, a low voice said near Satine.   
  
She's been out of it for quite a time now.   
  
Where's Christian, do you think?   
  
Satine struggled against a pressing weight and opened her eyes. The lisp in that voice was very familiar to her.  
  
She raised her head. Is that you? The small man placed a reassuring hand on her forehead.   
  
It's all right, beautiful. You're safe. Satine looked around to see the anxious faces of Toulouse, Satie, and the Doctor.   
  
What? What happened?   
  
You fainted, Satie said gently.   
  
Just tired, I suppose, Satine murmured, pushing herself up.   
  
All right, all right, give her some air, Toulouse announced, pushing his two companions back. So, my dear Madam Christian, where is your husband.   
  
Satine said quietly.   
  
  
  
Because-- because he doesn't love me anymore, Satine's voice was flat and empty, but Toulouse only laughed.   
  
Lover's quarrels! You two!   
  
That's not it, Toulouse! Satine cried. Out came everything that had gone wrong-- the child, the argument, the coldness. Toulouse heard her out in silence, but once she had finished, he brushed back a lock of auburn hair and smiled at her.   
  
He still loves you, Satine. Things aren't always as they seem. In the darkness, here Toulouse waved a hand around the dimly lit apartment. The hat rack becomes a monster. In the light, he squeezed her hand reassuringly. It's all that it is. You two need to stop walking around in the dark.   
  
It's hard, Satine said softly, remembering the hours of heartache and humiliation and pain.   
  
Of course it is. Satine, Toulouse said quietly, the way things are now will continue unless you and Christian change them. Why haven't you told him that you're afraid you can't have a child? Why won't he ask you? You'll just keep lashing out at each other for all the wrong reasons unless you light the candle. Satine looked up.   
  
What should I do? Toulouse stood up.   
  
_What you've got to do is  
Finish what you have begun  
I don't know just how  
But it's not over til you've won!  
  
_Toulouse raised her to her feet and smiled up into her eyes.  
  
_When you see the storm is comin'  
See the lightening part the skies  
It's too late to run  
There's terror in your eyes  
What you do then is remember  
This old thing you heard me say  
It's this storm, not you  
That's bound to go away!  
  
_I don't know how, Satine said. Toulouse slowly and painfully walked over to the window.   
  
_Hold on  
Hold on to someone standing by  
Hold on  
Don't even ask how long or why  
Child, hold on to what you know is true  
Hold on til you get through  
Child, oh, child. . .  
And it doesn't even matter  
That the danger and the doom  
Come from up above or down below  
Or just come flying at you from across the room!  
Child, hold on  
It's this day, not you  
That's bound to go away!  
  
_Hold on, Satine whispered. Toulouse nodded.   
  
Hold on.   
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: No, I haven't acquired the rights to Moulin Rouge. Leave me alone.   
  
Song used:  
Hold On--The Secret Garden


	20. Can You Forgive Me?

Chapter XX: Can You Forgive Me?  
  
Nearly a week later, Satine slowly walked up the path that led to the house. She smiled as she saw her home waiting for her. Her dear little home. Christian would be home in a week, and perhaps then they could begin to gather together the pieces of their shattered marriage. Satine had no illusions about how long it would take. They had hurt each other badly, and it would be hard for those wounds to heal. But they could do it. She narrowed her eyes at the figure working in the garden. That was odd. Henry usually took Thursdays off and spent them with the girl he was courting. With a mental shrug, Satine continued up to the house.   
  
The figure in the garden straightened up as she approached and Satine's walk slowed as she realized it was _not _Henry. . . it was Christian.   
  
he whispered hoarsely. Satine stood there in shock. Christian's face was set, but his hands were shaking.   
  
she said. She stared at him, her suitcase having fallen to the ground by her. She took two hesitant steps towards him and Christian pressed his lips together and closed his eyes.   
  
he said again, and this time, Satine realized he was crying. Oh, Satine. . . They drew together until they started running into each other's arms. Satine burst into tears as she felt his arms around her for the first time in so long. He kissed her face, her hands, her hair, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she would run away. Satine held him close, sobbing into his chest.   
  
My love. . . she whispered to him. Oh, my love, my love. . .   
  
Christian slowly drew back and cradled her face in his hands, running his hands over her features as if memorizing them. Satine searched his eyes, finding all the love she would ever need in their blue depths. Then both of them hesitantly closed their eyes and moved towards each other until their lips met in a deep kiss. Satine wrapped her arms about him, listening to him breathe.   
  
Inside the house, Anne watched with a small smile on her face. Her mother would be shocked if she could see this, but Anne knew what real love was when she saw it. With a wistful shake of her head, she dropped the curtain and discreetly retired to the sewing room.   
  
It seemed like forever before they reluctantly drew back from the kiss. With his arm securely wrapped around her, Christian walked with Satine to the two-person swing in the garden. They sat there hand-in-hand before Christian first spoke.   
  
Satine, I-- when I came back early and saw you had gone--I-- I didn't know what to do-- I was afraid I had lost you-- that you didn't love me-- Satine pressed her fingers to his lips with a gesture of unmistakable tenderness.   
  
I went back to Montmartre.   
  
Christian's heart fell. Were you really going to leave me? Satine cut him off with a shaking laugh.   
  
Leave you? No, oh, God, no, Christian! I-- she paused and stared into his eyes. I went because-- I can't have children. The doctor said so and I thought that maybe someone there could help me.   
  
Christian said, touching her hair. I was so afraid that I'd driven you away because I'd be so terrible. I can't tell--  
  
Satine interrupted. Don't you care?   
  
Of course I care that you were gone, Satine. It was pure hell when I thought that I'd--   
  
No, not that, Satine said impatiently. Don't you care that I can't have children?  
  
Yes, yes, of course I care that-- yes, that must be horrible, darling, and I'll do everything I can to make up for it-- maybe it's my fault---  
  
Satine cried, barely believing the surge of joy in her heart. Not me! Doesn't that bother you? Christian stared at her, not comprehending.   
  
he said finally. Satine, I love _you. _Not whether we can have children or not. I don't care about that. I don't care about any of that as long as we have each other. A strangled cry came from Satine and she began to laugh.   
  
Toulouse was right for once, she said, wiping away her tears.   
  
Satine shook her head.   
  
I'll tell you later.   
  
Christian placed both of his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. A tear trickled out of the corner of his eye and Satine kissed it away.   
  
he said. Can you forgive me?   
  
Can you forgive me? she asked in reply.   
  
I asked first, Christian said pertly, inwardly thanking God that he hadn't lost his beloved wife.   
  
Ladies go first.   
  
Yes, ladies answer first.   
  
Oh. Well, then. Yes.   
  
Christian repeated.   
  
They kissed again then, each remembering the sheer joy that had accompanied the simple word.   
  
  
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: Go AWAY, stupid copyright people! I'm poor!   
  
I hope this makes up for the anguish I put them through. If this doesn't satisy anyone's need for mush, read the next chapter. 


	21. Back to Life

Chapter XXII: Back to Life  
  
They sat out there in the garden until the golden rays of the sun darkened to purple and crimson streaks of light against the pale sky. Satine's head was resting on Christian's shoulder as they watched the sun melt into the gently sloping hills. Christian's hand caressed her arm and Satine closed her eyes. Something had happened. Their love had deepened, almost. What had been bright and sparkling and perfect had faded to a richer colour of love, with faint scars where it had crumbled and been rebuilt. She stirred and Christian looked at her.   
  
Are you hungry?   
  
No, not really. Are you? Christian shook his head and looked at her with quiet adoration.   
  
I love you. Satine lowered her eyelashes onto her cheek.   
  
I love you. She rose and took Christian's hand, leading him into their house and to their bedroom door. It's time to come back, Christian. Christian went to open the door, but hesitated, his hand on the doorknob.   
  
What is it? Satine asked after a moment.   
  
Something I need to say. Satine looked at the ground and thought for a moment. Something was missing. What was it? She touched Christian's shoulder and began to sing softly.   
  
_Don't think I'm sorry' is what we need to say  
Don't think forgiveness is why we're here today  
Guilty, we're both guilty, let's walk through that door.   
  
_Christian closed the door behind them and locked it while Satine let the curtains down. He walked over to her as she stood against the wall and began to unpin her hair. Her auburn curls fell down one after the other, kissing the curves of her face. Once her hair was all done, she touched his cheek as he sung.   
  
_A second chance is what I'm talking about   
Let's take the hurt and turn it inside out  
Lay it on me baby until I can't take anymore. _  
_  
_Satine slowly began to unbutton his shirt as he closed his eyes and sang to her.   
  
_No mercy, show me no mercy,  
Love me all night long and don't hurry  
Take it slow and easy, no mercy tonight.  
  
_Satine pushed his shirt off of his shoulders, leaving him in his undershirt as he undid her blouse. They both sank onto the bed and he wrapped her in his arms while she released all the pain and longing in her heart with her song.   
  
_Hold me baby, you know I've been hurting  
Love this love back to life cause it's worth it  
Love me strong, baby, show me no mercy tonight.   
  
_Christian kissed her shoulders and arms, while she buried her face in his chest.   
  
_Remember when we thought that being apart  
Would be the best thing for both our hearts  
It's a prison out there when you're living  
Alone for sure. . .   
  
_Christian helped her untie her corset, releasing her from its confines. She exhaled deeply and kissed him for a long moment. When she drew back, he kissed her neck while she sang softly in his ear.   
  
_Now I know how much I really missed you  
No more games, just wanna be with you.  
Just give me all your love   
Till you can't give anymore.   
  
_They kissed again then, and let themselves lie back onto the bed while they resurrected their love, breathing life back into it and healing every breach that had ever opened between them.   
  
Several hours later, Satine lay in Christian's arms, her curls resting on his chest. Their breath moved in tandem and she tenderly caressed his hand. He twisted to look at her, tracing her face with his eyes. She smiled sleepily at him as he sang.   
  
_In the silence of the early hours  
I look at you and I feel the power  
Don't need promises to make it right  
Let's just follow what we're feeling inside.   
  
_Before they fell asleep together, they quietly sang a final verse to the song.   
  
_Hold me baby, you know I've been hurting,  
Love this love back to life cause it's worth it  
Love me strong, baby, show me no mercy tonight. . .   
  
_Christian felt Satine slip into a contented sleep, and he held her just a little tighter as he followed her there.   
  
~-~-~  
Author's Note: Do I really need to keep repeating this?  
  
Songs used:   
No Mercy--Ty Herndon. It's a countryish song, but it's oh so beautiful. Listen to it. It gives me goosebumps.   
  
This story is almost finished. It's taken on a life of its own. . . I'm going to write an afterword covering all the pain this story took me through. . or something. If there are no more unexpected turns, there's three chapters left. Cross your fingers for me! :)


	22. The Greatest Gift of All

Chapter XXII: The Greatest Gift of All_  
_ _  
_The next few weeks passed in a steady stream of golden days and silver nights. They read together, sung together, laughed and talked, steadily re-discovering their trust in each other with every small gesture of love. Satine woke every morning to find sunlight dappling the foot of their bed and Christian lying beside her, sometimes still sleeping, sometimes watching her. One such morning, she slowly blinked her eyes open and smiled into Christian's face. He kissed her lightly.   
  
Good morning, he whispered, propping his head up on his hand.   
  
Satine replied, stretching her arms out towards and sighing a little. She settled back down, mimicking his position and looking into his eyes. What day is today? Christian fell back down next to her and shrugged.   
  
  
  
No, I mean the date, love.   
  
Christian said. June 15 or 16th, I think. Why? Satine frowned a little. Something was tugging at the corner of her memory.   
  
I'm supposed to do something, I think. I keep feeling like I've forgotten . . . something.  
  
Christian looked up at the ceiling for a moment and then shrugged again. Satine sighed and settled herself down in his arms. Christian traced her chin with his finger and smiled at her. Satine creased her brow.   
  
What is it? Christian asked softly. Satine bit her lip and searched the recesses of her mind.   
  
I know I'm supposed to remember something.   
  
I'm sure you'll think of it, Christian said patiently as she rolled out of bed and into her satin mules and kimono. He had hit his head on the bar that held the lace canopy up. Can we please fix that? Satine snorted into her skirt.   
  
I still don't understand how you can get your head at that angle to hit it.   
  
Yes, well, I'm all right. No bleeding on this side. Satine froze in the midst of bringing her dress out.   
  
What did you say? she asked casually, tightly gripping the fabric. Christian looked up at her, puzzled.   
  
I'm not bleeding. . . Satine, what is it? Satine had gone white.  
  
Where's my journal?   
  
In the nightstand drawer, I think. Why? In response, Satine dropped her dress on the floor and flipped her journal open, hastily leafing through the pages to find the dates she wanted. When she had discovered them, she glanced back and forth, counting.   
  
Satine looked up at him, her lips trembling.   
  
Check them.   
  
Check what?  
  
The-- oh, the dates! I'm late!   
  
For what? an exasperated Christian asked, flipping through the book. He glanced down at her careful markings and he paused as he realized the import of them. he whispered.   
  
Nearly three weeks, she whispered. She covered her face and laughed slightly hysterically. Christian dropped the journal on the floor and went to her.   
  
What do you think?  
  
I don't know! I'll have to see the doctor and see what he thinks. . . but, oh, Christian. . .I can't hope. I just can't. I'm too afraid. Christian held her tightly.   
  
Three weeks, though. . . that puts it at. . . his voice trailed off.   
  
When I came back from Paris, she finished, looking up into his face. That would make sense . . .   
  
It would also be a little ironic, Christian said dryly, pulling out a chair for her.   
  
Just a bit, Satine responded, unconsciously stroking her stomach.   
  
We'll see the doctor today, Christian promised, rubbing her shoulders. It will be all right, Satine. Satine smiled at him and took his hand.   
  
she agreed while she took a deep breath to steady her nerves. It will.   
  
You have to wait outside, sir, the doctor insisted, practically pushing a nervous Christian out the door.   
  
But my wife-- Christian began to protest, looking back at a nervous Satine.   
  
Will be fine, the doctor said, leading Christian over to a chair. Now, sir, please, please just wait for a while. It won't even take that long.   
  
Hate to see him around delivery, the doctor muttered, coming back to Satine. Now. Madam. Satine inhaled slowly and steadily, carefully controlling her hope that this would finally be coming true.   
  
You're sure? she asked half an hour later. Absolutely sure? The doctor nodded and wiped his hands on a nearby washcloth.   
  
In a little more than eight months, yes. That should put the due date around. . . January 30. Now, why don't you go tell your husband before he wears a path in my wife's new carpet? the doctor asked with a conscious smile. Satine didn't need any encouragement. She ran out to Christian, who nervously caught her in his arms.   
  
he asked. Satine smiled and nodded joyously.   
  
January 30.   
  
January 30, Christian repeated as he held her close. It seems so far away. . .   
  
It seems like forever until then, Satine grumbled around December 14th. She rose and paced restlessly around the room, leaving the christening dress on the table. Christian watched her sympathetically.   
  
I'm sorry, darling. Would you like another cup of tea?   
  
I would like my figure back, Satine announced, sitting down next to him on the chaise. She winced in pain and he ran his hand over her hair.   
  
he murmured, kissing her softly. It'll be all right. Just a little over a month. Satine straightened up.   
  
We need to decide on names.   
  
We have a list, Christian reminded her, gesturing towards the typewritten pages that rested on the desk.   
  
I am not naming the baby Orpheus, Satine grumbled.   
  
I was joking about that, Christian said soothingly, tucking his arm around her.   
  
I know. But we still don't have anything we really like.   
  
If it's a girl, we could name her Satine, Christian suggested. Satine shook her head and wrinkled her nose.   
  
  
  
All right, dearest.   
  
No, then how would you tell us apart? Satine 1 and Satine 2? You'd have to start calling me Mother' and I have a holy fear of that.   
  
I would never call you that, Christian said, looking slightly horrified at the notion. That's one of the least romantic things I could ever think of.   
  
But what are we going to name the baby? Satine asked, frustrated. English or French? Oh, and Margaret wants to come visit after the baby is born.   
  
Did she say so?   
  
No, of course not. But I know she wants to. She loves children.   
  
We could name the baby after her, Christian said doubtfully. Satine shook her head.   
  
I love your sister, Christian, but not that much.   
  
It would help if we knew whether it was a boy or a girl, Christian reflected.   
  
Yes, of course it would. Satine sighed and drew her knees up to her chest.   
  
Why don't we worry about it when it comes? Christian said after a moment of silence. And if we can't decide, there's always Orpheus.   
  
And Eurydice? Christian Everett-- She caught sight of his grin.   
  
That's not funny, she accused him playfully.   
  
I thought it was.   
  
You, my dearest husband, would. Christian tried to frown, but his smile kept getting in the way.   
  
Satine whispered after they kissed.   
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: Christian and Satine belong to Baz. ::pout:: A HUGE thank you to everyone's who's reviewed. I owe you all a ton. 


	23. In My Arms

Chapter XXIII: In My Arms  
  
I think you'd better go get the doctor. Pacing outside their bedroom, Christian reflected that it was amazing how eight simple words could throw a household-- and himself-- into a complete panic.   
  
Please go _away_, sir, the nurse had finally said to him. You're not supposed to be in here. Your wife will be fine.   
  
Fine? That was all very well for the nurse to say, but she didn't have to wait outside and listen to the unfamiliar sounds of pain that drifted out of the room. Christian sighed and made himself sit down, only to rise again two minutes later at another faint cry from the room. He gripped a nearby cushion until his knuckles turned white.   
  
Inside the room, Satine was being swept away by wave after wave of pain. The doctor was pale and drawn, and he touched the nurse's elbow as she brought in another stack of cloth.   
  
We'd better be prepared for the worst, he said quietly to her. I don't like the way this is coming. The nurse sighed and gestured out to the hall where Christian waited.   
  
Should we warn him? she asked softly. Her heart had gone out to the young man, and she felt strangely tender towards him. The doctor sighed.   
  
I'll tell him. He sighed deeply. He hated this. I'll tell him.   
  
Monsieur Everett, Christian turned, the hope apparent on his face, which quickly vanished as he saw the doctor's grim expression.   
  
What is it? he asked quietly. The doctor gently rested his hand on his shoulder.   
  
I think you should know that there . . .there is a danger. Christian looked stricken.   
  
What do you mean? You mean the baby's having problems?   
  
No, Monsieur, the doctor said. I mean your wife may. . . she may not survive this. She's very slender and well. . fragile, if you. . . he trailed off at Christian's expression. I'm sorry, he murmured, helplessly backing away. Christian's jaw trembled.   
  
he whispered. With that, he burst into the darkened room and knelt by Satine's side. The nurse started towards him, but the doctor drew her back.  
  
I don't think it matters anymore, he said significantly.   
  
Christian. . . Satine's breath was faint and ragged. She tried to manage a smile, but it quickly turned into a grimace. I-- I don't--   
  
Christian soothed her, pressing his hand over her mouth. You'll be all right. Yes, you will. Satine nodded slowly, but she cried out again when another spasm of pain overtook her. The doctor rushed forward and pressed a hand to Satine's forehead.   
  
Jeanette, please come here! he said sharply to the nurse. I'll try one more thing, he said grimly. Christian gripped Satine's hand as tightly as he dared, desperately trying to hold onto her and keep her here with him.   
  
The next hours were the most agonizing of Christian's life. But they eventually drew to a close as Satine gasped one final time and then relaxed. The cry of their new-born child broke the stillness in the air and Christian stared at the bundle in the nurse's arms with awe.   
  
Here you are, Madam, Jeanette said, looking exhausted but pleased. Meet your baby daughter. Satine took the child and let out a soft cry of happiness. Her white face was blanched with pain, but her entire person radiated joy as she took her daughter in her arms.   
  
Here, Christian, she whispered, holding the baby so he could peer into her little face. Meet our daughter. Christian gently extended a finger and caressed the baby's silken cheek. He looked at Satine and kissed her head.   
  
Our daughter, he repeated. The baby squirmed and let out another very vocal cry. Christian smiled through the tears in his eyes. Nothing wrong with her lungs, I see. Satine laughed at that and looked down at the baby.   
  
Oh, she's perfect. . . Christian, look at her hands. . . they're so tiny and. . .  
  
Christian finished, watching the baby's dark eyes dart around the room. Satine let out a shuddering breath.   
  
What shall we name her? You decide.   
  
  
  
Yes, anything. Satine laughed weakly. Even Orpheus, if you could possibly be so cruel to the poor thing. Christian studied the baby for a moment, and then glanced up.   
  
  
  
  
  
Because she's an angel. He touched Satine's face for a moment. Like her mother. Satine smiled and closed her eyes briefly.   
  
Christian said, carefully pulling the blankets around her. Sleep now, darling.   
  
You'll stay here with me, won't you? Satine asked with alarm.  
  
Of course, Christian said softly as he settled himself next to her.   
  
Oh, wook at ze liddle bitty sing, Satine crooned a few days later as Christian brought Celeste over to her. She was confined to bed for at least a week and a half after the birth, and Christian was determined to enforce it. He was with her nearly every minute of the day, and wouldn't let her get up for anything, even to pick up Celeste-- although Satine suspected that was because he wanted to hold her as much as she did.   
  
Dem itty wee eyes are so pwetty, Satine continued as she settled the baby in her arms to nurse. Oh, and zook at zeese itty bitty handsies. Christian was leaning over the side of the bed, admiring his daughter. He had tried to protest that baby talk was the most absurd thing in the world, but his objections had faded after Satine had caught him cooing over the baby yesterday.   
  
After a few minutes of silent adoration, Christian glanced up from Celeste and smiled tenderly at Satine. Her rippling curls had been loosely pulled back, and with the candlelight gleaming on her hair like a halo, he thought she looked exactly like a Madonna in her white dress.   
  
She's a miracle, Satine said proudly as she watched the baby's mouth suck with wonderful concentration. Celeste's tiny hands flailed as she ate, and Christian caught one of them and studied it.   
  
How does it feel to be holding a miracle in your arms, Satine? he asked, examining Celeste's baby fingers one after the other until she grew impatient and pulled her hand away.   
  
How does it feel to know that we've created a miracle? Satine asked, stroking Celeste's dark skullcap of hair. Oh, yes, my precious little baby, she said to Celeste, momentarily distracted by her face. Yes, you are a miracle, darling. Celeste did not seem very impressed by her status, and went back to her meal while Satine and Christian laughed together.   
  
So, Satine? Christian began after Celeste tired after her dinner and she was back in her cradle. Exactly how long will it take before she begins to sleep through the night?   
  
You don't have to be getting up all the time, Satine said. I can get the baby out of her cradle just as well as you can. Christian sniffed, looking hurt.   
  
Do I just get neglected, then?   
  
No, of course, not, dear, Satine soothed him. There are many diapers in your future.   
  
Never mind, Christian said, rising and heading for the door. I like being neglected. I don't know why you don't neglect me more often.   
  
He paused and turned back to her, a wide grin on his face.   
  
Just joking, darling. Just joking. He sat down next to her and held her tightly. But anyway, about my earlier question. . . Satine shook her head.   
  
Do you really want to know? she asked, raising her eyebrow.   
  
Christian thought for a moment, exhaled, and shook his head.   
  
  
  
I thought so.   
  
~-~-  
Author's Note: Don't own anything except for the doctor, the nurse, and Celeste. Please review and let me know how you liked this, I will be forever happy. :D


	24. Come What May

Chapter XXIX: Come What May  
  
Satine sat in the armchair embroidering one of Celeste's new smocks while Christian crawled around on the floor, amusing his daughter with impressions of various animals. Celeste was five months old on Tuesday and Christian had already announced that she was the most remarkable baby of all time.   
  
Christian said, sticking two fingers up behind his head. Look, Celeste, I'm a cow! Moo. Satine tried to hold her laughter in, but she ended up burying her face in Celeste's dress while she giggled. Christian straightened up and frowned playfully at Satine. Gathering Celeste in his arms, he talked to her in a very confidential tone of voice.   
  
I don't think your mother takes me seriously, Christian said to the baby, bouncing her on his lap. See, Celeste, she's laughing at me. Oh, is it time for the baby's nap? All right, elf, sleepy-time for you. Celeste did not argue too strenuously with her father, but instead screwed up her face and settled down to sleep.   
  
Satine said, industriously sewing a hem and trying to disguise her smile. Are a very silly boy, Christian, dear.   
  
I am not, Christian protested, coming up behind her and kissing her hair.   
  
I'm not going to argue with you, Satine said finally, putting the finishing touch on the dress with a flourish.   
  
Fine, fine, Christian grumbled as she folded the garment up and put into the small sewing chest. Do you want to go for walk?   
  
Satine said, jumping up. Yes, please. It's lovely out. I'll just tell Anne to watch the baby for a short while.   
  
Christian was already waiting for her with her parasol and hat when Satine hurried down the stairs.   
  
Thank you, she said absent-mindedly, pinning her hat on as he opened the door. The sweet scent of roses wrapped itself around her the moment she stepped outside into the outdoors. Christian bent down and picked her a spray of baby's breath and tucked it in her hair.   
  
Baby's breath, he said with a smile. Satine tucked her arm inside his as they strolled down to the stream. The water glittered in the fresh June sunlight. They stopped underneath the shade of a weeping willow, and Satine stretched her arms out and looked around her.   
  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place, she said lightly, leaning her head against his shoulder. Christian smiled at her, remembering the first time she'd ever sung those words.   
_  
_We've kept that promise wonderfully, haven't we Christian? Satine said abruptly, looking around at the peace of the French countryside. Come what may. Christian paused and drew her close to him.   
  
_Never knew I could feel like this  
Like I've never seen the sky before  
Want to vanish inside your kiss  
Every day I love you more and more. . .   
  
_Satine kissed him and then smiled up into his eyes.   
  
_Listen to my heart, can you hear it sing  
Telling me to give you everything,  
Seasons may change, winter to spring. . .  
  
_They sang the next lines together, feeling the truth of it over two years later the same as it had been during the hectic days of the Moulin Rouge. . .the beautiful days of their honeymoon. . .through their visit to England, through holidays, through pain, through happiness, through Celeste's birth. . .  
  
_But I love you  
Until the end of time.  
Come what may,  
Come what may  
I will love you until my dying day.   
  
_That night at dinner, Celeste looked pleased to have been invited to the table on Christian's lap. She looked around with wonder, her mouth pursed as she watched her parents eat. Laughter and love filled the room like the golden glow of the candles that were scattered on the table. Christian kept pretending that he was going to lift Celeste up and drop her into the food, fooling her every time.   
  
After half the meal was over, Satine finally laid down her fork and picked her daughter up.   
  
Off to bed, then? Christian kissed Celeste's forehead. Goodnight, little one. As Satine carried the baby off to her bed, she softly sang the little girl to sleep.   
  
_Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place  
Suddenly it moves with such a perfect grace  
Suddenly my life doesn't seem such a waste. . .  
  
_Satine smiled when she realized that two people made the next line true for her now.  
  
_And it all revolves around you.   
  
_She bent down and kissed Celeste goodnight. As she walked back to the dining room, she was intercepted by Christian, who wrapped her tightly in his arms as he sang to her.   
  
_And there's no mountain too high  
No river too wide.   
  
_Satine broke away and kissed him, afterwards resting her forehead on his.  
  
_Sing out this song and I'll be there by your side  
Storm clouds may gather and stars may collide. . .   
  
But I love you.  
  
_Christian sang to her as she slipped her nightdress over her head. Shaking her curls free, she turned to him and took his hand.   
  
_I love you,  
Until the end of time. . .   
  
_They stood together in their bedroom as the stars crept out into the soft twilit sky and the night perfumed the air with its velvety touch. Satine smiled around the room, at all the memories there, all the hope of the future. . . children, choices, dreams, successes, failures. . . but no matter what happened, they would always love each other.   
  
_Come what may,  
Come what may,  
I will love you  
Until my dying day. . .  
Oh, come what may  
Come what may  
I will love. . .  
I will love you. . .  
Suddenly the world seems such a perfect place. . .  
  
_No matter how bad things get, Christian whispered in her ear. Whatever happens, we remember our love. Satine smiled at him  
  
she said.   
_  
Come what may,  
Come what may  
I will love you until my dying day!   
  
_**Finis.   
  
**


	25. Notes

Notes:  
  
First of all, a huge, huge, huge thank you to everyone that's reviewed. I can't say this enough (well, maybe I can, after 25 times it would probably get pretty tiresome) You guys really brightened my day. What can I say? Reviewers rock!   
  
A special thanks to all the Rougettes. . .and to my god. . .er, thing. Or _something_. ;-)  
  
I'd also like to thank the academy for nominating Moulin Rouge for 8 awards.   
  
And I'll shut up now about that.   
  
Now I want to write a sequel. . .anybody up for it?   
  
~drama-princess  
**  
**


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